


Early Ripe

by kingdra (aroceu)



Series: fun and games [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Borderline Personality Disorder, Character Study, Depression, Fuckbuddies, M/M, Masturbation, University, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-02
Updated: 2015-03-02
Packaged: 2018-03-15 21:58:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3463541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aroceu/pseuds/kingdra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjoying Kuroo's presence is fine, but Tooru can't let himself lose sight of what's really important.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Early Ripe

**Author's Note:**

> Heed all tags.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who's been cheerleading me on (!!) and also Bri for the technical aspect of med students/life, and helping me research what it's like in Japan. All mistakes are my own!

Tooru curses as soon as the ball hits his arms. It bounces, slows, rolls past the white line, toward the wall. He stares, and suddenly he's back on a different court, hearing the roaring of the crowd in his ears, the net lightyears away from him, and somehow, somehow he's expected this—

He jolts. He's been staring at the ball for too long. Tooru walks over, bends down, picks it up. He sets it back in the air again.

It bounces off his forearms. He lets it, watching it jump in the air each time. There's no more electricity on the court, but a sort of weight, like the oxygen is drowning him. Subconsciously he takes a deep breath, lets the ball land into his hands. He tosses it in the air and jumps. The net is no higher than it usually is.

Tooru serves it to the other side.

He almost screams. He wants to, sees the Inter High, sees Shiratorizawa, sees the ground. The ball, the net, gym by gym, shoes squeaking, blue and white and green and black and orange and—

He's on the ground, he's on the ground and there's nothing for him to cling to except for the edge of his shorts. Changing into them feels like so long ago, getting out of bed feels so long ago, yesterday feels so long ago, his stomach tightened and mouth lurching and this is real, the way his fingers are trembling as he tries to feel the fabric, tries to find himself in his body, remember what he's here for.

It manages to stop when Tooru grips with his fingers so hard that his fingers leave deep dents in his skin. He ignores it, stands up. His legs feel fragile. He goes to the bench to take a sip from his water bottle, then makes it to the other side of the court where he'd served earlier.

He grabs ahold of the ball and stares at the wall closest to him. It's not enough, just hitting it in the air—he needs something to push it, push him, push him out of this body, push him into some other universe. He throws it up, jumps, hits it. He catches it just before it can soar away. Throws, jumps, hits it. Throws, jumps, hits it.

Throws, jumps, hits it.

Tooru doesn't know how long he goes on. At some point, the door to the gym rustles open. Iwaizumi walks in. He's in casual clothes, and not carrying his gym bag.

"Why am I not surprised to see you here," he says.

Tooru throws the ball. He jumps. He doesn't look at or answer Iwaizumi when he hits it.

"How long have you been here?"

Tooru sets the ball in the air again. "A while," he says.

Iwaizumi sighs. If Tooru knows him well, Iwaizumi probably has his arms crossed, strained frown on his face. But considering that they've just lost the Spring High, it's probably less angry. More sympathetic.

It hurts when he serves the ball at the wall.

"You didn't go to sleep, did you," says Iwaizumi. Tooru doesn't respond, continues with his routine. It hurts, like he's a spiker, and he wonders how Iwaizumi can endure it all the time. How shrimpy-kun, for as long as that game had lasted—

He doesn't catch the ball in time. It flies right at his shoulder, knocking him down. Tooru lands on his bad knee when he does.

Iwaizumi is at his side immediately.

"You're a dumbass," he says, as he helps Tooru up.

Tooru smiles weakly. It's the first time he's gotten a good look at Iwaizumi. His eyes are tired but his mouth is trying.

"Way to kick me when I'm already down, Iwa-chan," he says.

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, says, "Use your other leg and don't be useless," and Tooru obeys.

*

His classmates are sympathetic to him, and that's the worst part. Tooru wants to ask them if they want to experience the last six years of his life, seeing Ushiwaka, seeing Tobio-chan, feeling on a different plane than them. Crushed by the limit of possibility and probability. If the world was crueler, or more justified, he would've lost because of his knee.

Iwaizumi would tell him it's not just him who lost. And he'd be right.

But it's not the whole team that had failed to receive shrimpy-kun's last spike.

He's bitter as he retreats into a routine that consists of only schoolwork, no volleyball practices. The day after the Spring High and after he and Iwaizumi had gone to the nurse's office, they'd resumed their morning practice. The rest of his teammates had come. Tooru had told them how proud he was of them over all the years, and passed down the baton for captain.

They officially resigned, and now Tooru's in his school uniform most of the time, eyes dawdling out the window as teachers drone on with their lectures. There are no afternoons to look forward to, no early mornings to stay up for. Sometimes Iwaizumi hangs back and asks if Tooru wants to join him, but it's hard to watch or help the others practice if Tooru doesn't know what it's working toward.

He has an appointment with his counselor after school one day. It's an excuse enough for him to say no when Iwaizumi asks if he wants to join another practice again. Tooru shakes his head, smiles, walks down the hallway alone.

When he enters his counselor's office, she berates him about his above average grades, his work ethic in balancing volleyball and his academics. Tooru smiles, fingering his messenger bag. His eyes skim over the brochures of universities she has spread out over her desk. He should be taking this seriously.

The counselor clears her throat.

"Volleyball isn't as competitive in university," she says. Her eyes are fixed on Tooru, like she's trying to detect any hint of reaction. "You know that, right?"

Tooru continues smiling. "I know."

"It's bothersome that no good schools offer volleyball scholarships," she sighs, and Tooru wonders if she's only saying that because she's talking to him. And Tooru knows this already: all the schools that offer volleyball scholarships have scholarships for everything—they want students, not skill.

His counselor continues. "Do you know what you want to do in university?" she asks him.

Tooru gazes past her. It's a cool, sunny day. In her window, he can barely see the clouds or the sun—they all blend in together.

"No," he replies.

*

His knee starts aching again a few days later. Tooru asks to be excused from class, and winces as he walks to the nurse's office.

"Again?" the nurse asks, when he walks in. She looks amused.

Tooru smiles faintly and shakes his head.

"I haven't played since the last time," he says. "It just started again."

"That doesn't surprise me." She sets down her paper and glasses and leads him to one of the low-rise beds. "Sit down. I'll have a look."

The lunch bell rings as she's moving his leg back and forth, leaning forward to listen to it. Tooru glances up at the clock. Before, this would've felt like unnecessary time, that he could be using his lunch break to practice more volleyball. Instead he sighs and accepts it when the nurse hands him an ice pack.

"It should go away soon," she says. "It's just the pain because it's still repairing itself."

"Yeah." Tooru rests the ice pack gently against the sore spot. The hurt numbs away quickly.

She doesn't ask him to leave, to go back to class. Tooru knows it's because usually when he's here, he stands up too quickly, wants to rush himself out. Today, he watches as she files the report for his visit.

He looks down, squeezes at the part of his knee that had hurt the most. He winces as soon as the pain shoots up his thigh—the nurse turns around and asks, "Are you okay?"

Tooru nods. He feels the part he'd originally injured, gently. His fingers have grown sensitive from volleyballs for so long. It's easy to feel for his tendons and bones.

He rubs the ice pack around there, thinking about staying a little longer when two people come bustling through the doorway.

"It was your fault as much it was his," Kunimi's saying in a strained tone, as Kindaichi glares at him.

"It was not! I didn't ask to be hit in the _fucking face_ —"

"The way you were looking at him practically said otherwise."

"Yeah? Even if it did, he didn't _have_ to—"

The nurse comes around to them. Iwaizumi's been telling Tooru how Kunimi's been more responsive at practices since the Spring Highs. Even though they're not on the court, Tooru can see it right now.

"Kindaichi has a concussion," Kunimi deadpans, before Kindaichi can speak for himself.

"We don't know that."

"Kyoutani _hit you in the head_ and then you landed _head first_ on the ground. And you thought I was Yahaba-san when you came to."

"You have similar silhouettes!"

The nurse clears her throat. "Let's see if Kindaichi-kun has a concussion, shall we?" she says, and sits him down on a bed.

Kunimi follows. Kindaichi seems to be more focused on muttering at his knees, but Kunimi turns with surprise when he spots Tooru. "Oikawa-san," he says.

Tooru says, "Where's Iwa-chan when this was all happening? He wouldn't have let Mad dog-chan do that to him." He glances at Kindaichi, who's now clutching his head. Kunimi might be right.

Kunimi shakes his head. "It wasn't a practice or anything. We were just using our lunch break to practice."

"Ah." Tooru pictures it, the three first years trying to repair their pride from the Spring Highs by trying to grow stronger right away. It's hardly a surprise that Kindaichi had been the one to get in the way of Mad dog-chan then.

The nurse had gone to get her supplies, and comes back just as Tooru turns to Kindaichi again. She starts inspecting him. Kunimi sighs, folding his arms, gazing past them.

Tooru watches.

*

Very rarely does Tooru use the cable on his television, and even more rarely does he watch for a team he won't be playing against. He readjusts his dusty table box and chuckles to himself. But there aren't any teams for him to watch to prepare to play against anymore.

He clicks on the tv.

As the commercials play, he gets himself set up at his desk. There's nothing to listen for, for now. His phone vibrates on his bed but he doesn't turn around. He opens up his textbook instead.

He starts reading as soon as the match starts. He's seen both teams play enough times, doesn't need to look to know their formations. The announcers list off the member names.

When they're done, one of them says, "This is the first year in a while that Seijou's not here, is it?"

The other one laughs. "It's a shame because they were so close at the Inter Highs."

Tooru's fingers tighten on the spine of his book. He relaxes himself, remembers to breathe.

The announcers are annoying ("Wow, look at that set by Kageyama-kun!" "And he's only a first year, right?") but it doesn't stop Tooru from listening to the game. He's already calculated everything that will happen. It's only natural that they get the first set.

His phone vibrates again.

When the second set starts, Tooru moves onto his next subject. He always does best on Japanese History tests, so this will be short. As will the set. None of them have seen Shiratorizawa play in person, before; it's only natural that they'll have to catch their breath, and Ushiwaka will take advantage of that pause.

The whistle blows. Tooru ignores his phone vibrating for the third time, takes out his notebook and another textbook to work on some equations. In the corner of his eye, he can see the camera zoom in on the huddle of black and orange. They're caught up now.

Tooru opens his textbook.

He only gets as far as two pages of work, when the announcers are going, "What's this? The _libero_ is setting?" and Tooru whips his head around. There, in his orange and black and completely awful hair, the Karasuno libero is bouncing the ball off with the tips of his fingers. The rest of his teammates are staring at him. The air is heavy with anticipation.

Shrimpy-kun goes for it. _He's not going to make it_ , Tooru thinks, and he doesn't—but their big spiker jumps, manages to hit it just in time.

It goes past Shiratorizawa's blockers, hits the ground, and then rolls out of the bounds.

Karasuno screams on his tv. The libero is shouting, "I was waiting to use that, Asahi-san!" and the big spiker has his arms reached out to hug everyone.

Tooru smiles because it's instinct, even though there's no one here to see it. Karasuno still had other plays up their sleeve. Not like shrimpy-kun's last attack against him had been anything new—it was still all Tooru, who'd—

His palms clam up, and he tries to squeeze it away, tries to tell himself that it's been weeks and he shouldn't be thinking about this anymore. He has his textbook in front of him. He stares at the paper and tries to blink, to not blink. He squeezes his eyes so hard that he has a headache for a second, backs away for a second, takes a deep breath.

It comes again, seeing the spike, watching where it will go, receiving it. Bouncing off his arms and past the white line, because he's—no, not because of him. Because shrimpy-kun. Because shrimpy-kun is what? Better?

Tooru's chest tightens and he digs his nails into his palms. It hurts, it hurts, but he continues—his eyes prick and he shoves the heel of his palm into them. This isn't the time. This isn't the time.

He hears Karasuno's cheer of victory on the tv screen, too familiar, but—too far away. He gets up and shuts off his tv, climbs into bed, his feet bumping into his phone as he does. His book's still open on his desk.

There are tiny dents in his hand. He carefully avoids placing his phone in his palm, holds them with the length of his fingers. Iwaizumi has texted him three times.

_hey are u planning on watching the match today???_

_holy shit did u just see that_

_are u asleep????_

Tooru shuts his phone, puts it on his nightstand. Since Iwaizumi started staying after to watch the second and third years practice, Tooru hasn't seen him outside of class. Matsukawa and Hanamaki are likely with him.

The light's still on, but Tooru wants to go to sleep, doesn't have the energy to turn it off. He shoves his hand down the front of his trousers, closes his eyes, back flat on his bed. The world is so quiet without any of his thoughts of volleyball.

He tightens a little too hard on his dick, and it hurts.

It's easy to think about anything, to think about nothing, when his mind had been so distracted before. Tooru easily created strategies while masturbating—not a skill, necessarily, but as a more convenient matter with the way that he only had so many hours in a day to prepare for the next match. Now it doesn't feel like much, but it would be pathetic if Tooru sacrificed one of his routines after another.

He thinks about how he _needs_ to get off, and it. Well, it works, kind of, because he does like this, does it because he likes it, the way his thumb brushes over the head of his cock and it feels both like too much and not enough. It doesn't get rid of the way his throat drops when his mind flashes with the Spring High again, like it has been—but one finger against his balls, rutting the back of his ass against the bed, and he can tuck the thought away like it meant nothing to him in the first place.

*

The days go by. Tooru responds to Iwaizumi's texts eventually, and Iwaizumi doesn't say anything about the delay, greets him every morning, doesn't give him a second glance when Tooru can only reply with a smile that feels ages away from the rest of himself. Exams are still far away but university decisions are coming up quickly. This, at least, makes Tooru feel a little better about himself.

He schedules an appointment with his counselor, who seems pleased when he comes in, slinging his bag over the back of his chair.

"Your grades are on track," she says. "What can I help you with?"

"I know what I want to do at university," says Tooru.

His counselor beams. Tooru knows it doesn't actually mean anything, because she deals with different types of people every day, every month, every year, and when he leaves he won't see her again and she'll have other students to attend to.

Everyone else will be like that and sometimes Tooru doesn't know why it even matters.

His counselor says, "Yeah?"

When Tooru tells her he wants to go into medicine, her eyebrows fly up. "That's a lot of hard work," she says, "but considering your track record with volleyball, it'd be silly to think you can't do it."

"Thanks," says Tooru, even though that's almost reassuring, like he can divert his focus somewhere else. That, of course, will be impossible; but at least he can tell himself otherwise, for a little bit.

They discuss possible universities and Tooru says that he wants to get out, stay away from anywhere that might feel like Miyagi again. His counselor suggests Tokyo, but they all do. Still, he thinks about it, and she says that he should let her know when he's come to a decision. He thanks her.

As he walks out, he feels his phone vibrate. Iwaizumi's asked him where he was during lunch. Tooru pockets his phone. Iwaizumi's already decided what he wants to do after high school, and it's nowhere near Tokyo. That's starting to look like a promising goal.

*

Graduation comes easy and Tooru smiles through it all, watches his juniors in the audience. After the ceremony, since he and the others are already here, and he hasn't been to a practice since—

He calls, "Last group huddle," as they descend from the podium. Iwaizumi looks at him with surprise, and Tooru smiles. "What, Iwa-chan? I've still got the captain's blood in me."

"You're not captain anymore," says Iwaizumi, hitting him softly. His eyes express a different kind of concern, but Tooru pretends not to notice.

"That's the point," he says, wraps his arms around him and Matsukawa as the first and second years come join them.

They yell their chant and the first and second years congratulate them, though they're not really first and second years anymore. Iwaizumi and Hanamaki cry and tell their juniors how much they're going to miss them. Matsukawa doesn't cry, but his expression is softer than usual.

Tooru will miss them, too. He didn't lead this team for nothing, and despite—everything else, and he bites down on his lip in memory, that doesn't get rid of the way he did bring out all of their potential, inspire them, was their captain for a full year, felt Iwaizumi holding him strong from the back.

And for a second he thinks that maybe he'll be all right, that it hadn't all been for nothing.

But when he wakes up the next morning, the first thing that he thinks about is how long it'll be until he's moving into an apartment in Tokyo. Until his focus will be somewhere else—that he'll be trying hard to be good at something he doesn't like as much as volleyball. And it's not as easy as just going back again.

Spring goes on. Tooru begins studying right away, buying textbooks and looking at suggested online classes right away. It's easy enough doing everything by himself, and there's no need for him to pressure anyone else.

As the break waxes and wanes, other thoughts, thoughts he doesn't ask for, start drifting into his mind. Would it have mattered, anyway, if he had won against Tobio-chan? This is where it would have ended, anyway, with just a few more games whether he would've ended up winning or losing against Shiratorizawa.

He clenches his pen on his application form. No, no, it's not just about him winning or losing. And what does Tobio-chan hope to achieve with his playing? What did Iwaizumi, anyway, when Tooru managed to get him into it, too, all those years ago? Tobio-chan could go professional. But you always take a risk when you go professional: there's no telling that you'd succeed. End up on the sidelines, useless and pathetic, watching players who are better than you.

Tobio-chan might be a genius unlike Tooru, but that doesn't mean he couldn't be destined to that fate, too. Tooru took the smart way out. It's not even the easy way, but he'll work hard and get paid well. This is a much cleverer decision than putting everything on the line just to do something you love.

*

His classes begin as expected. No one warns him—but he's practiced volleyball multiple times to the point of injury, so the mental stress is nothing new. It's surprisingly easy, actually, how lost he can get in his books and studies. The late nights staring at his book are better than watching the brightness of his television screen in the dark. He gets the same amount of sleep as he did in high school.

As the semester rolls into its third week, Tooru notices a steady uprising of his classwork, has to find every spare minute during the day to stare at his textbook. His classmates around him talk about study groups, but Tooru shuts himself in his apartment at night, listening either to classical music or the steady ticking of his kitchen clock. Sometimes they ask him for help but he gives a straight answer, then rushes off to eat lunch while poring over his notes.

On the weekends the workload is easier, because he's not getting piled on with more in a row. He discovers a bar that's close enough to his apartment building and serves well, both in quality and service.

People try to get friendly with him there, too, but Tooru knows how to talk to people, will brush them off if they get annoying, engage in a short conversation if not. Sometimes they lean in and have a nice enough face that Tooru will say yes if they ask if he wants to get out of here.

None of it really means anything, but it's manageable. In the mornings he says goodbye and that he has to rush off. Even when they ask him to stay, he tells them he's a med student and doesn't have the time. And he's not the type to be talked into fucking around for another time.

Tooru didn't have the time either, in high school. It was more difficult then, with the rigid schedule, but now with the fluidity of his days, he can keep his mind on a single thing.

The extracurriculars fair comes around, but Tooru knows how useless that will be. Still, when he's walking back from the bus stop, he passes by and manages to take a quick look around. He lingers on the outskirts of what looks like the section for athletic clubs.

There's a booth for volleyball. Tooru's whole body tenses, but he can't get himself to move away—it takes another whole second before he's walking as fast as he can, narrowly avoiding several students. He needs to go home, he reminds himself. It takes another second for him to realize his chest is too constricted to breathe, and he hits himself in the middle, knocking an exhale out of him.

He studies until the sun comes up that night. It's a school day, but that's okay, because he still feels the same when he wakes up, even with less sleep. He continues on with his routine. Nothing can break it as long as he has control over himself.

*

Several of his classes one Friday are canceled, due to an apparent illness spreading among the instructors. Tooru takes the opportunity to go out Thursday night—he'll still study later, but he can make up for the time he goes out the next morning, instead of his canceled classes.

He goes to the bar he's begun to regulate. The bartenders change frequently enough, but they all recognize him, anyway. They start him off with his first usual drink, and he tips a little extra in thanks.

Some other regulars who recognize him talk to him, eventually leave. The evening goes on. Between the water Tooru asks for more than the alcohol, he feels only a little tipsy when his phone buzzes.

_hey, howve u been?_

_ok_  
_thanks for asking, iwachan~~_

_good_  
_can i call u?_

On a normal night, Tooru would've ignored him. Iwaizumi's called before, even when Tooru ignores him. Naturally, Tooru never answers.

_ayyyy B-)_

Then his phone starts ringing, and people look at him weird, because Iwaizumi's ringtone is a j-pop song that he hated in his first year of high school and Tooru had made it that just to annoy him. Tooru listens to it, picks up after his favorite part.

"You haven't changed my ringtone yet, have you," is the first thing Iwaizumi says when Tooru has his phone to his ear.

"What do you mean 'yet'? I'm not going to change it, ever."

Tooru rotates his glass on his coaster and watches it, as Iwaizumi pauses.

"It sounds noisy on your end," he says. "Where are you?"

"In a bar," Tooru answers. "But don't worry, I'm not drunk."

"I wasn't worried," says Iwaizumi. Tooru doesn't believe him. "So you've left for university, huh."

Tooru laughs. He stops spinning his cup, grabs it tightly with his left hand. "This is a conversation we should've had a long time ago, isn't it, Iwa-chan?"

Iwaizumi huffs on the other end. "Yes, if you answered any of my texts or phone calls about it."

Tooru hums. Iwaizumi doesn't ask for an explanation, so Tooru doesn't give him one. Maybe a part of wishes he would, but Tooru knows he wouldn't give him one, anyway. Iwaizumi's nagging has never pried him open apart. Wishing he would means nothing.

"Yes, I left for university," says Tooru. "I'm in Tokyo."

"That's pretty far away," says Iwaizumi.

"I know how far Tokyo is from Miyagi, Iwa-chan."

"I know you do." Iwaizumi's tone is surprisingly patient. Maybe he does want to ask. Tooru prepares himself to laugh it off, to make excuses.

But he just says, "At least you're going somewhere, that's good, or else I would've wondered what you plan on doing with your life."

"Stop trying to be my mother, Iwa-chan."

Iwaizumi laughs lightly.

"Is there a volleyball club?" he asks.

Tooru hesitates. The moment he does, he knows Iwaizumi reads into it—either he's about to lie, or he's going to tell the truth because the answer would mean nothing to him. But they all feel like the same thing, at this rate.

"Yes," he says, and he knows Iwaizumi knows exactly what it means.

"Right," says Iwaizumi. "Well. Anything interesting you want to tell me?"

"Do I ever tell you interesting things, Iwa-chan?" says Tooru, returning to spinning his cup around his coaster again.

"I'm sure _you_ think you do."

"You've got that right."

They say goodbye and hang up, and Tooru sighs. He stares at his glass of water, downs it. Asks the bartender for a glass of beer this time.

*

Tooru feels ridiculously naive the morning he wakes up after a night of studying and feels too cold in his bed. He crawls out and checks the temperature, but the heater is set to normal. He takes some medicine to reduce his fever, throws on a scarf and jacket when he's about to leave, and continues on with his day.

At least studying to the point where it affects his physical health isn't as inconvenient when he'd done the same with volleyball—it's just painfully ironic. He gets used to it, drinks coffees and teas at night instead of caffeinated sodas, goes to bed bundled up in sweaters and two layers of socks and wakes up feeling fine in the morning again. The first few times his classmates had looked at him strangely when he came into class wearing a hat and a scarf, but soon enough they get used to it, too.

The best thing about being a med student, he supposes, is that he always uses studying as an excuse if any of his classmates ask him if he wants to spend time with them outside of class. Most of the time he is actually studying, when he says this, and if they offer to study with him, he explains that he works best alone.

Schoolwork had never been like volleyball—you had to rely on your teammates in sports, but scoring well on a test is one hundred percent individual effort. Some people do better with assistance, but Tooru's always studied by himself, so his brain works fast enough on its own.

Volleyball had required him to get to know his teammates better, to socialize with them, analyze their behavior both off and on the court. Iwaizumi's aggressive in all ways (at least, toward Tooru), Kunimi knows how to preserve himself and show the only parts that were important, and Yahaba had always been full of surprises. Tooru's whole strategy for the sport was to recognize this and bring it out, a strategy that no longer has any use now that he's not in high school.

In university his only strategy is to work beyond what's expected of him. Socializing and forming friendships no longer has any use to him—and there's also the aspect that no one except for Iwaizumi texts him anymore, either. Matsukawa and Hanamaki used to, but those conversations waned away quickly. And Tooru only expects Iwaizumi to text him once a week at most, doesn't keep track of that, and is sure that's been broken, anyway.

He only has his work ethic to offer, after that hadn't gotten him anywhere with volleyball. But that was bound to end at some point. And on the days that he feels like this won't mean anything either, he distracts himself by going over the newest material, or reviewing notes he hasn't read in a while. His days feel repetitive, but he recites what he'd learned at the newest lecture, instead. He tells himself this works. And in a way, it does.

*

When he meets Kuroo Tetsurou, he expects himself to forget about him, except he doesn't. He kind of lingers in the back of his mind while he studies that evening, not really a distraction, but more. Like if he focused on him, maybe he might go away, but it's more comfortable keeping him in the peripheral parts of his head.

They run into each other at the bar, and then the intercity train, and then Tooru almost swears when he ends up going for lunch at the cafe Kuroo happens to work at. He's never actually been here before and thought he might try something new—incidentally, at the day and time of one of Kuroo's shifts.

Tooru thinks he's following him at first, until he remembers that they go to the same university and they must live within some close vicinity of each other—now that the end of the semester is nearing, half the people he passes most of the time look familiar. Kuroo's tall and likes to talk and his messy hair is kind of hot? And he's in the volleyball club, Tooru discovers, when he goes to a practice after Kuroo had mentioned he used to play, still does.

He's a middle blocker, like Matsukawa, like Kindaichi. Tooru can see it, in the way he crouches and plays quietly, encourages his teammates between sets and rotations of practice. During their break, Kuroo disappears from the court. Tooru suspects he's either going to the restroom, or has noticed him.

Footsteps climb up and join him on the bleachers. "What'd you think?" Kuroo asks.

Tooru doesn't want to tell him that he's not as annoying as Tooru had treated him at first. Instead he says, "There's a reason I didn't come to Tokyo for the university volleyball teams. They're not very good."

A lot of them play like they hadn't when they were in high school, like the last time they were on the court they were in middle school during gym class. Or they're the types who gave up after their third year of middle school, because of the way high school volleyball is.

Kuroo's easily the best person on the team, but he shrugs anyway at Tooru's comment. "Why aren't you on the team?" he asks.

Tooru blinks, stares at him. "Didn't you hear what I just said? They're not very good."

He almost expects Kuroo to make a comment about his old high school, about the born and bred players from Kitagawa Daiichi to Aoba Jousai.

Instead Kuroo grins, says, "That's alright. What about me, what'd you think about me?"

It had been hard for Tooru to detect any weak spots in Kuroo's playing, because he'd been so defensive in a way like that's how he'd always been, moved around the court like he knew what steps to take next. But it doesn't really mean anything when the team doesn't look like they're trying very hard, anyway.

"I don't know what to say," he says honestly. "You haven't really been doing much other than talking to your teammates."

"That's what I do." Kuroo throws up the a-ok gesture at him. "You don't have to be on a team that you think is good, you know."

Tooru had only gone to Kitagawa Daiichi because they were good, headed onto Seijou because they were good, hardly knew where to go from there because there was nothing left for him, after that. "I know," he says, and doesn't believe himself.

Kuroo keeps the conversation gong. "What are you doing here at the practice? You knew I'd be on the team, didn't you?" And he actually bumps his elbow into Tooru's. Tooru might keep it going, if they weren't in the gym, in front of a volleyball net, and images of the Spring High weren't coming back to him.

Kuroo continues, "It's been you twice in a row now," (and Tooru resists the urge to mention the part about the cafe being an accident), "maybe I'm not as annoying as I thought."

Tooru grumbles, "You're not annoying," but it's hard to know if Kuroo had heard. The coach blows the whistle, and Kuroo stands up.

"I'll see you sometime soon, probably," he says, grinning.

Tooru does, after the practice, several days during the weeks that follow. He catches glimpses of Kuroo, with other people, pushes back the urge in his throat to greet him. Kuroo's usually with someone, but it doesn't trigger a jealousy that Tooru would've expected for himself.

On the last day of the semester, Tooru realizes these little run-ins are beneficial, because they're enjoyable. They run into each other at the bus stop when it's raining, and Kuroo mentions that he's going home for break. Tooru feels something twinge inside at the thought of not possibly running into Kuroo for a while. But he ignores it.

"Your best friend is in high school?" he says, instead.

Kuroo says, "Don't look at me like that. He's a third year. I doubt he misses me, anyway," and he grins. "I told him I felt bad for ditching him, and he said that there was no way he would let me be a hobo in his room if it meant coming to university without him."

It doesn't surprise him, Kuroo's attitude, and Tooru believes every word. He smiles and thinks of Iwaizumi.

"You're doing better than me," he says, ignoring the guilt tugging in his pocket, at the text Iwaizumi had sent last week that Tooru had never replied to. "I didn't tell Iwa-chan until last minute that I was coming to Tokyo," because the truth would sound more pathetic, "and he said that he was glad that he didn't have to worry about what I was planning on doing with my life."

"Better late than never," says Kuroo, taps Tooru's knee with his own, but now it feels like his phone is burning a hole in his pocket. "But if you're far away, that means you have something in mind, doesn't it?"

Tooru is silent about this. The bus comes soon enough, and there aren't any empty seats, so Tooru lets himself get lost in the crowd. He's not sure if Kuroo had expected him to stay with him, but he'll be gone soon, anyway.

Enjoying his presence is fine, but Tooru can't let himself lose sight of what's really important.

*

The day Tooru wakes up and knows it's the start of break, it feels like there's an extra dip in his life. He doesn't know if Kuroo's actually left the city yet, but—

Kuroo's only one person. They've only seen each other a handful of times. It doesn't mean anything, anyway.

He spends a good chunk of his time studying—the usual routine—and hunting for an internship, because he knows he's going to have to start one by the end of the school year, at the very latest. In the beginning of break, when it's his birthday, Tooru decides to give himself the time off, sleeps in, hangs out at the bar and day drinks for a while, gets home and tries to find something to do on his computer and fighting the urge to open up his textbook.

When the temptation gets too strong, he shucks off his clothes. He could very easily find someone to lay—especially in a club—but it would feel too fake and he would end up hating himself because it's his birthday and that's pathetic. Instead he lies on his bed, covers his fingers with lube, and slowly starts to jerk himself.

It's better than right after he'd quit volleyball, anyway, because now most of Tooru's thoughts are occupied with school related things, and it doesn't make his insides clench up like they used to. But he can't get himself off, because at least volleyball—and he squeezes his eyes shut in embarrassment—had some painful, emotional quality that Tooru can barely grasp in his thoughts anymore.

His mind drifts. He finds himself thinking about Kuroo, which is less weird than Tooru had thought it would be, but mostly because he thinks about Kuroo coming to talk to him in the middle of his volleyball practice, on the train, the first time when Tooru had whipped his head around and Kuroo had said, "You're Oikawa Tooru, right?" and Tooru had hated him, hated him in the moment Kuroo knew who he was and why.

The thought isn't erotic, but it gets him off anyway. Tooru's body is more into the feeling of his hands at his dick and his own fingers teasing around the rim of his ass; his mind is somewhere else, even when he feels the orgasm.

But, as he winds down, reaches over to his tissue box to wipe himself off, he didn't _ask_ for Kuroo to be here. Kuroo's not annoying—he's not even a med student—but. Tooru thinks about the way he's with his volleyball team, like he'll work with what they give him, try to find their potential anyway. He reads people, knows people, and Tooru has seen him with people he probably likes, suspects that Kuroo likes him, too.

His heart jumps, but any initial good way of him taking this disappears almost at once. Kuroo isn't like his classmates, but only because Kuroo doesn't ask—he just goes for it. It's terrifying. Tooru tries not to think too much about it, but suddenly he can see himself wanting Kuroo while Kuroo's busy, hurting Kuroo with petty rejections out of resentment, and it's. He and Kuroo aren't even _friends_ , Kuroo talks to so many people, and Tooru's the one who needs to focus on his schoolwork. It'll eventually mean nothing. School will come to an end, too.

*

The rest of summer break goes on as if it weren't a break. The only way Tooru had managed to get such high grades on his exams last semester is because he'd studied so much, and even the holidays aren't an excuse to let that up.

When the second semester begins, Tooru tries not to think too much about how this means that Kuroo is back.

Still, he'd even studied during the weekends in the summer, so now at least those chunks of time can roll over into weekends of winding down during the school year. And when he gets his exams back and sees that his studying is continuing to pay off, he decides to go to the usual bar. He doesn't tell himself that he deserves a lot, but. Maybe once in a while he does.

He orders the drinks he usually saves for later right off the bat, feels as the alcohol spreads through his system. Soon enough he's striking up conversations with the bartender, with the people next to him. He remembers he doesn't plan on studying tonight. He whoops.

"I'll buy drinks for everyone in this bar!" he shouts, and everyone cheers. Tooru feels like the happiest person in the world as he sits on his stool, dangles his feet off the sides.

He takes what feels like a second of calm to observe everyone in the establishment. They're all talking to someone, laughing like they're familiar, or want to be familiar with them. Tooru smiles, even though he doesn't really feel it—he's talked to everyone in here already, but he would be okay if he never saw them again. It's not a bad thing. It's a very, very good thing.

The door jingles. Tooru's entire body jumps when he sees who it is—not just himself, off his stool, but the funny little parts inside his chest, too.

"Kuroo-kun!" he shouts. Kuroo is very warm. Kind of weird to hug, since he's a little taller than him, and he's kind of angular, kind of long. Like a tree.

Kuroo's laugh is also nice, but not like a tree. Tooru realizes he'd been slouching against him when Kuroo helps him back up, props him upright.

"This is the happiest you've ever been around me," Kuroo says.

Tooru wants to giggle, wants to say something about that, but Kuroo is too fast. Kuroo speaks so fast. "Also," he says, "three for three now? Unless we're counting the bus stop, then three for four. Although I don't know if that would be you or me."

Tooru likes to think of himself as a number-oriented person, except it's hard to make sense of Kuroo's words when he's talking about threes and fours which make seven. "I don't know what you're talking about," he says.

Someone he'd talked to earlier, had been in the cheering when Tooru had announced he was going to pay for everyone's drinks, asks him for wine. Tooru shouts, "Yeah!" and leads them over to the counter. He pays for the person.

Kuroo asks, "Are you rich?"

"Hard to say."

"What's the occasion?"

There's always an occasion when Kuroo's talking to him. But Tooru's not going to tell him that, because his thoughts feel dark when he feels it on the tip of his tongue, like that will push Kuroo and their coincidences away.

And, anyway, there's another truth. "I've been studying for the past three weeks," Tooru says enthusiastically, grabs for the drink he'd abandoned earlier. Maybe it's his drink. "I need some time to wind down."

Kuroo pushes him into the stool next to the one he's sitting on. "You've wound down a bit too much, I think," he says. Smiles. Nudges him.

Why does he have to be so nice? Tooru takes a big swig of his drink.

"I am excellent," he says, and leans forward, "at taking care of myself."

"I'll trust you on that."

It's so, so hard to read between his words. Tooru doesn't know why he's trying now. He knows there's nothing to read, but he's suspicious anyway.

"You know," he says, tilting forward again. He tilts so much that Kuroo has to hold him up. "You _are_ kind of annoying."

Tooru rights himself. He's getting somewhere. Maybe Kuroo will do something about it himself. Something that will make these thoughts while he's studying stop. Iwaizumi still texts him and sometimes Tooru is glad when he does.

But he can't see Iwaizumi here, and plus, Iwaizumi doesn't have terrible hair that somehow suits his face, doesn't have this lanky, huge figure that Tooru both wants to compete with and get to know more. God. It's disgusting.

"But I am too, so I don't mind," Tooru continues. "Plus, it doesn't stop you from not being bad to look at."

Kuroo blinks at him.

"That makes a surprising amount of sense when you're drunk."

Tooru giggles. Of course it makes sense. "I am a sensible drunk."

"I wouldn't put it past you," says Kuroo. "So. Huh. You swing that way, don't you?"

Kuroo is evidently not sensible when he's even sober. Tooru wonders if he will be if Tooru buys him some drinks. "I don't play baseball," he answers.

*

He doesn't remember much of the rest of the night, except that he knows what Kuroo sounds like when he tries to sing badly, and that his friendliness with the bartender from before might not go so well in the future.

Tooru wakes up that morning on a couch that he doesn't know. It's still dark grey outside, and when Tooru looks at the first clock he sees, it's six o'clock. Of course it is.

His head hurts and he feels like he's going to throw up but he shouldn't in a place that's not his. He should figure that out, too. Where the hell he is.

He gets up, snoops around. The living room isn't incredibly organized, but Tooru can't really judge when his own bedroom is a thousand times worse. He thinks about trying to find the bedroom in this apartment to figure out whose place he's at, when he spots a picture frame by the tv.

Dark messy hair, mouth open in a mischievous smile—of course he's at Kuroo's. Tooru doesn't know if it's better or worse that he didn't wake up in Kuroo's bed. The other person in the photo frame has even gaudier hair than Kuroo, long and blond with dark roots very visible. They're both wearing similar high school uniforms. Tooru wonders if everyone at Nekoma has bad choice in hairstyle.

It'd be weird if he stayed while he was awake, and even weirder if he fell back asleep on the couch, so Tooru heads out. Luckily, he recognizes the street, and knows how to make his way back home.

He hates it. He hates this, and he hates himself—he shouldn't have gone out last night, he didn't—Tooru hardly knows him. Why did he end up at Kuroo's? They'd been small meetings, accidental glances and conversations that would disappear when they ended. The parts of Kuroo that had stayed with Tooru, that Tooru might've looked forward to—that shouldn't have cracked into reality.

Kuroo might expect him to be his friend. Or worse, Tooru will expect Kuroo to want to be his friend, and he loses his place in his head for a moment.

No. No, Tooru had only stayed over because it was convenient, or whatever, no matter if Kuroo had offered in the first place or Tooru had asked. That's over now, and they'll continue on, and Tooru will look forward to whatever they choose to continue until they eventually stop, and then he'll get used to that.

As soon as he gets home, he takes off his clothes, steps over everything on the floor of his bedroom, and passes out in his bed for a good few hours.

He wakes up to the sound of his phone buzzing—the reminder that his class is starting right now. He'd almost forgotten that it's Monday. Tooru groans and hits a button. He carries his phone out to his kitchen, as he gets breakfast.

He scrolls through, leans against the counter as he heats up his water. When he goes through his contacts, he sees an unfamiliar entry named  _I don't play baseball either_. He frowns and taps on it, seeing that a conversation with them has already started.

_it's the other asshole, asshole_

Tooru stares at the message, recorded as being sent from his end. But it wouldn't make sense to him even if he were still drunk.

_who is this? I don't remember sending that text..._

Almost immediately, a reply comes in.

_guess :)_

Tooru has only one, and he must know. Kuroo must've stolen his phone at some point last night to text himself this, because that would make sense.

_care to explain your name in my phone?_

_you said it to me last night._

Tooru frowns.

_in what situation would I tell you I don't play baseball? why do I need to know that you don't play baseball, either?_

And he feels stupid when he presses send, but he means it, because first of all they both play volleyball, and.

_it doesn't matter, all you need to know that it's true :^) what are you up to on this fine monday morning?_

And Kuroo's not talking to him like last night had been an accident, that none of these are really, really accidents. Kuroo doesn't even know him as long as they've known the other existed, and he doesn't pry, doesn't ask for more, but not so little that Tooru finds himself wanting more.

The knot in his chest loosens.

_i missed my first class today_

_ah :^( i'm sorry, maybe i should've set an alarm. i don't have any classes today_

Tooru thinks about telling him that he has an alarm, that it's no big deal because he's read so far ahead that lectures are just reviews for him now.

_you're lucky_

And he is, because Tooru finds himself wanting to be like Kuroo and wanting Kuroo, and not hating himself for it.

*

It's so easy. It shouldn't be, but it is. Tooru comes to Kuroo's workplace and manages to persuade him into letting Tooru use his employee discount. He doesn't ask questions when Tooru brings up that he doesn't play volleyball anymore again, and Kuroo invites him over to his place.

Tooru ends up eating lunch with him before that without a second thought, because Kuroo's enjoyable, doesn't bring up how closed off he was before. Tooru forgets about it, doesn't second guess himself when he tells Kuroo, "I figure since I'm coming to yours over the weekend, I can keep binging on not sleeping," as he takes off his jacket in the restaurant booth.

Kuroo says, "Alright, first of all, what the fuck kind of idea is that?"

"A great one," Tooru answers. All he's thinking about right now is when he'll need to leave for his next class, what he'd read in his textbook this morning, the ridiculous expression on Kuroo's face as he looks Tooru's outfit up and down, probably because Tooru looks great in this sweater. (Probably not, but.)

"Second," Kuroo continues, "what does dressing like this have to do with your insomnia?"

"I get cold when I don't get enough sleep."

" _Then get enough sleep!_ "

When a waitress comes by, Tooru shows off how he doesn't need sleep when he smiles at her and she blushes. When she's gone, he says to Kuroo, "See? It doesn't hinder anything important."

Kuroo throws an ice cube at him and he's okay with the brief second he's not thinking about classes or school.

Still, when he goes over to Kuroo's place that weekend, he discovers that it was probably a bad idea to sleep less during the week—Kuroo probably didn't want him to sleep the whole time. But after they eat dinner, they sit in the living room, Tooru on the couch while Kuroo's on the ground browsing for DVDs, and Tooru closes his eyes while admiring the back of Kuroo's head, and doesn't open them again until the morning.

But there's a blanket over him this time and he doesn't remember lying down even though he is. And the sound of Kuroo in the kitchen sounds much, much better than the silence from before.

*

Since Kuroo had invited him over, Tooru feels less hesitant than he would've been when he texts Kuroo if Kuroo wants to come over to his. He feels kind of bad for it, because he needs to study, but he also wants to see him, and maybe make up for the way he was before.

Kuroo does, with bubble tea in his hand, and Tooru sips some of it. Kuroo jumps back and gets it all over the both of them, finishes it so Tooru can't. He's pouting when he says to Tooru, "You're such a brat."

"You say as you look at me like that." Tooru leads them to his living room. When he glances at Kuroo, he remembers that even though he's been to Kuroo's twice, this is Kuroo's first time being here. Kuroo looks scared at how spotless the floor is.

"You don't want to see the inside of my bedroom," Tooru assures him.

He resists the urge to roll his eyes when Kuroo says, "I don't know if you want to jump to conclusions like that," but it doesn't surprise him—in fact, Tooru's sure that he would've said something similar if he were in Kuroo's position.

Tooru resumes studying, wonders for a brief moment if Kuroo will get annoyed, will look around, will ask if he can have something to eat or drink. Instead Kuroo takes out a handheld from his pocket and starts playing silently as Tooru looks over his books and textbooks. He doesn't forget that Kuroo is there, even though he doesn't look at him, fills his brains and thoughts and lungs with lecture notes and the highlights in his textbooks.

At some point, Kuroo is gone, comes back with two glasses of water. Tooru doesn't let it distract him, drinks, still reading and flipping the pages. His goal for tonight is to finish this section, which isn't much for the weekend, and only because he has an exam in three weeks. It's about eighteen hours of collective studying, and he'd invited Kuroo over on his sixteenth hour.

When he's done, he closes his book and tells Kuroo he's taking a break. They go to the kitchen and he feeds his bored mouth with some food, fills up his cup. Kuroo asks for alcohol.

They clink their first glasses together, and Kuroo says, "Good luck on your test in three weeks." Tooru laughs, downs half of it.

"What's it you said?" he says. "I don't need it?"

"Don't need what?"

"Luck," Tooru clarifies, remembering one of the first texts Kuroo ever sent him. "I don't need luck to get good grades."

Kuroo hums, takes a small sip. Tooru's already drunken more than him. "You don't," he agrees. "Just to study, right?"

Tooru nods. He drinks a little more. "Lots of studying," he says. "Studying until I kill myself."

They both laugh. It feels weird when Tooru hears Kuroo laugh at it, but it also feels weird when he hears himself laugh, so it's his own fault. He drinks a little more.

"What about you?" he asks, and Kuroo tilts his head in confusion. "What are you studying?"

"Oh." Kuroo shrugs, rotates his glass. "I'm just taking general classes. I don't really know what to focus in, yet."

"Hm." Tooru takes another sip. "You seem like that kind of guy."

"Yeah?" Kuroo's eyes crinkle when he smiles. Tooru hadn't meant for it to be a compliment, but he doesn't mind Kuroo taking it that way. He looks nice, like this. Tooru takes another sip.

"Ah," he says. "I need to pee."

"I'm not surprised." Kuroo's still smiling when Tooru rests his glass down on the kitchen counter.

Tooru calls, "What's that supposed to mean?" over his shoulder, down the hall.

He pees, not thinking of much. Kuroo's in his living room, he's done studying for the night. Kuroo's tall and knows volleyball well and is nice. Tooru smiles. He doesn't need luck for schoolwork, but maybe he is lucky.

When he comes back out, Kuroo's on the couch, turns when Tooru comes back. "That was fast," he says.

"I'm a pretty fast peer." Tooru sits down next to him. He notices the way Kuroo's eyes rake over him, in an analyzing, challenging way. Tooru would do the same.

The night continues on. Tooru drinks fast, sort of keeps track of how many glasses he has. More than Kuroo, at least, who keeps taking his damned sips. He points it out at one point, and Kuroo says, "That's how you're supposed to drink wine."

"You aren't going to get drunk that way," Tooru says, and Kuroo raises his eyebrows.

"I didn't realize you were trying to get me drunk."

"You asked for the damn wine," Tooru says, sloshes his own cup in Kuroo's direction.

Kuroo moves away in time, but some of it spills on the carpet. Tooru tsks at himself, says, "I'll clean that up later."

"You better," says Kuroo.

Tooru doesn't keep track of what they talk about, though. They move on from topic to topic, and even though Tooru's sure Kuroo would be the same if he got drunk with anyone else, Tooru isn't the type to get so comfortably drunk with anyone else. But maybe that's one of the few things they don't have in common.

It's been so, so strange having Kuroo. It's strange having Kuroo now, like he'd shoved his way into Tooru's life and weaseled his way into his daily routine. Except he hadn't, except Kuroo had just talked to him and found him and it was Tooru who stopped being an asshole. He doesn't know if Kuroo noticed, although he hopes he did. Tooru doesn't know if Kuroo ever thought of him being an asshole, though, considering how much he'd persisted.

Tooru smiles. Of course they're friends now, because they're similar. But also because Kuroo kept appearing, and Tooru never could bring himself to say no. He'd forgotten what it's like, enjoying someone. Iwaizumi had always been there. Everyone else came because of volleyball.

Kuroo had, too, but in a different way. And he pats Tooru's head, when Tooru leans on him, struggling to get the words out.

"You're so sleepy," he says to Tooru.

Something low burns in Tooru's stomach, at the touch. He tries to lift his head up, but his eyelids are so heavy. When did that happen? But he can still make sounds with his throat.

"You're," he tries, ends up hiccuping, "definitely the only friend I've been able to make in a while."

Goddammit, that's not even true, because Tooru hadn't made Kuroo his friend. Tooru has never made anyone his friend, really. But he doesn't want to scare Kuroo away by saying this.

Kuroo says, "That's sweet," and that's the best response Tooru could've ever gotten. His stomach burns more, but his mouth feels dry and he stands up to fill his glass with water.

They fall asleep eventually, and even though he's sitting up and his back and ass hurt when he wakes up, it feels like the best rest he's had in a while. Maybe it's because when he opens his eyes, Kuroo is curled up on his side, long limbs somehow tightened, his head in Tooru's lap.

*

Tooru has an exam soon, but he still says yes when Kuroo asks him if he wants to go to the university festival with him a week later. Of course he does. They play some of the games and drop food on people from a ride until they get kicked out. It's worth the two hours he could've been studying tonight, instead.

Kuroo's birthday is a short while later. Tooru decides to surprise him at his own apartment, hears Kuroo shout, "Nobody's home!" when he gets there. There's a doormat outside Kuroo's front door, though, and Tooru finds a spare key easily.

He manages to drag Kuroo out of bed. They dick around at the bar at first, then go shopping kind of drunk, and Tooru refuses to let himself feel pathetic for drinking so much so early in the day. He knows that if he doesn't, he'll either still be half-thinking about his schoolwork, or too aware of how much he's thinking about Kuroo, and doesn't want to deal with that when it's Kuroo's birthday.

When it's night Tooru brings them to the nightclub he'd looked up earlier. He's enough dignity for the day that he suggests they go dancing only after a few more drinks at the bar.

Kuroo agrees, and then they're on the dance floor. And Tooru lets himself notice more tonight how Kuroo's body is against him. He's not really trying, feels like he's doing pretty well, doesn't care when Kuroo laughs, especially when Kuroo says that he doesn't think he's that great himself. Kuroo doesn't stop staring at him and they get closer because of the crowd, the music's so, so loud, and it's as easy to get lost in it as it is to get lost at staring at Kuroo. Tooru lets himself alternate.

He opens his eyes when Kuroo brings him close, shouts, "You didn't get me a birthday present!"

Tooru thinks for a moment about saying how the day had been one. And it had, intentionally.

But his next thought is _I should give him a proper one, shouldn't I_ and then he's kissing Kuroo, and Kuroo's kissing back, and he tastes gross and Tooru needs more.

Kuroo kisses him again, and then the world is shifting into tongues and blowjobs and restroom stalls, more dancing, more kissing, the late night air, Kuroo's apartment.

The thing is, when he wakes up the next morning, when he goes back to his own place and nurses his hangover, when he cracks open his notes right before class, everything else is blurry. But he remembers the sex, the feeling of Kuroo's dick in his mouth—it's not as present as it would be if he'd done it sober, but—he remembers Kuroo's face when he came, how good Tooru had felt at making him come.

He feels kind of weird when he thinks about visiting Kuroo at work, texting him if he could, and Kuroo telling him he has class. He feels a little better a couple of days later when Kuroo asks he's free for dinner, when earlier that afternoon he'd asked Iwaizumi if he wanted to Skype tonight and Iwaizumi had said yes.

It means Kuroo might be in the same boat, which means Tooru might be in a better one.

"It's not every day you agree to my requests, Iwa-chan," he says, when he's turned his webcam on.

Iwaizumi is in his desk Tooru had helped him build when they were twelve and his parents had decided to get him real furniture for his room. "It's not every day you ask to talk to me, Oikawa," he says, with a roll of his eyes.

Tooru hums and fiddles with his laptop charger. Iwaizumi waits—patiently, some might say—before he says, "Something obviously happened, so you should get on with it already."

"What do you mean, 'obviously," says Tooru, though he says it lightly. He continues playing with his laptop charger.

"You know exactly what I mean by 'obviously,'" says Iwaizumi. "Don't tell me you failed a test."

"Do you think I failed a test, Iwa-chan?"

"Don't mock me." Iwaizumi folds his arms. "What is it?"

Tooru weaves the cord between his fingers.

"I gave someone a blowjob."

Iwaizumi stares at him.

"And? This is supposed to be news?"

"He's a friend," Tooru explains.

Maybe something passes over Iwaizumi's face, but it's gone in an instant and Tooru decides not to read into it.

"So?" Iwaizumi says.

"I," says Tooru, and then pauses. He doesn't know why this is a big deal even to himself. It hadn't been the first time he'd given a blowjob, or the second. Well, he doesn't really count the number of times he's had sex, because it doesn't really matter.

Instead he settles on something that's easier to understand, and says, "I don't know what we are or where we go from here," and Iwaizumi tells him that he's Oikawa, he just _goes on_ , and if Kuroo thinks something weird of it then he'll bring it up, because Tooru doesn't.

And in a way he's right. Because when Tooru accepts Kuroo's initial response to a Nekoma high school volleyball match, and then backs out and goes to Kuroo's own practice a week later, Kuroo blows him, too, almost like he's paying back for his own birthday. And also because he uses it against Tooru to get him to tell him why he had broken his promise. But it ends up alright after all, because Tooru tells him the truth and Kuroo says it's okay and grabs his dick.

They fuck under the open windows of Tooru's living room, and Kuroo's bedroom, and at the storage closet at Kuroo's work. They still get meals together and Tooru memorizes the open spaces of Kuroo's schedule (there's a lot), texts him when he needs a break, too. Sometimes they have sex for a long time and sometimes it's for a short time and it doesn't really cut into the hours that Tooru needs to studying—he's good at rationing them out, anyway.

The first time Kuroo had eaten his ass, they'd taken a shower afterward and Kuroo had asked what they were. Tooru had told him that they were whatever he wanted them to be, because he doesn't care, really—the sex is good, but whatever Kuroo wants from him would be good, too, as long as he wants something.

Kuroo had said, "Fucking sometimes?" and Tooru had grinned, had wasted ten minutes and probably too much water making out with Kuroo in his shower.

*

The first time Tooru rides Kuroo's dick, Iwaizumi calls in the middle of it.

Tooru grins at the caller ID. Kuroo has his eyes closed, and Tooru flips his phone open and moans, "Ah, Iwa-chan."

Kuroo reacts before Iwaizumi gets a chance too. "Oikawa!" he says, and smacks his hand. The phone rattles to the floor, and Tooru hears Iwaizumi's startled voice shout before it snaps shut.

Kuroo's kind of red in the face. It's hard to tell if it's from Iwaizumi's phone call or the fact that his dick is pretty far up Tooru's ass, but Tooru thinks it's cute anyway. "Why the hell did you pick up your phone when we're busy?"

Tooru shrugs. "Iwa-chan's pretty used to my mischief."

The pressure from Kuroo's hands increases on his hips and he fucks Tooru down a little harder. Tooru loves it, cries out, "Oh, Kuroo, Kuroo!" like he's playing for a camera, grins at Kuroo's tensing face.

Then Kuroo turns them around so he's hovering over them, uses one hand to hold Tooru's wrists together. Tooru has to bite the inside of his lip to prevent himself from coming too soon. Kuroo fucks him real and hard until Tooru can't push back his orgasm anymore, comes without shame. As soon as he's done, Kuroo collapses, and doesn't protest when Tooru takes the condom off his dick, jerks him off as well.

As Kuroo lies spent on Tooru's bed, Tooru goes and picks up his phone from where it'd been flung to the ground. Kuroo seems to still be recovering when he returns to his bed.

"Shit," he groans.

Tooru grins. "We are unstoppable," he says, as he dials back to recent calls. Iwaizumi picks up on the first ring. "Hi, Iwa-chan. Sorry for interrupting you earlier."

"Sounded more like I was interrupting you," Iwaizumi grumbles. "Tell whoever you're fucking thanks for that."

Tooru laughs. He's kneeling above Kuroo, glances down at him. "He says thank you."

Kuroo says, "You are the only one here who would've been okay with letting that happen," and Tooru's pretty sure that Iwaizumi hears that.

"I'm sure if you got to know Iwa-chan better, you'd want him to listen to you having sex, too," he says cheekily.

"Oikawa," says Iwaizumi. "I do not ever want to listen to you have sex. Anyway."

"Yeah?" says Tooru.

"I was wondering if you were coming back for winter break." Iwaizumi's voice sounds hesitant. Tooru doesn't blame him; their conversations have been as sporadic as ever as of late. But only because Tooru's been busy with Kuroo.

"Yeah, of course I am," he says.

"Right."

Tooru hums. "Is that all, then?"

"Well," says Iwaizumi, and Tooru's seen it enough, can picture it—when Iwaizumi's interested in something Tooru wants him to be interested in, hates asking about it. "Who were you having sex with just now?"

"A friend," Tooru answers.

He can practically see the pieces clicking in Iwaizumi's mind. His brain isn't the same as Tooru's, but Iwaizumi is anything but slow. "A friend," he repeats. "Right."

Tooru glances at Kuroo. Well there's nothing wrong about that. Maybe Iwaizumi's mind is just somewhere else, on some weird track that's wrong and that Tooru will probably never understand. "What's with that tone of voice?" he says, his fingers dawdling on Kuroo's thighs. "I do mean a friend."

"Yeah." Iwaizumi sounds tired. "Well, that's it. See you when you come back for break, then."

He hangs up before Tooru does, and Tooru scowls at his phone. "Iwa-chan is grumpy," he says, putting his phone down.

Kuroo looks concerned as Tooru crawls on top of him. Kuroo's as warm as he can be when his chest is all big and muscle but the rest of him is kind of knobby. "Why?" he asks, as Tooru rests his chin a little below Kuroo's collarbone.

"Dunno. I'll never understand him."

Kuroo chuckles. Tooru can feel him vibrate all over, can feel Kuroo all over.

*

He goes back to Miyagi, texts Iwaizumi as soon as he's back. Iwaizumi demands that Tooru goes over to his, even though it's already started to snow. Still, there are only a few times in his life when Tooru would say no to Iwaizumi without feeling bad about it, and he hasn't seen him in half a year. So he goes over, anyway.

Iwaizumi's invited most of the volleyball club over, too. A few months ago it would've annoyed Tooru, but it doesn't now. Everyone asks him how his classes are doing, and he says they're going well and talks about going to the bar on the weekends. All of the second-turned-third years look eager. Iwaizumi tells him he's being a bad influence.

When they're alone, Tooru tells him about Kuroo. He doesn't around the others, because they might recognize his name and his link to volleyball, and that's a risk that Tooru doesn't want to take. But he knows that Iwaizumi had known as much about Kuroo as Tooru had before Tooru had met him, so he doesn't comment on the name at all.

"Honestly, Iwa-chan," Tooru says, when they're out a few days later. They're looking through the aisles of the foothill market, but Tooru's talked about sex in public before, talked about sex with Iwaizumi before, and talked about sex with Iwaizumi in public before that Iwaizumi doesn't bother telling him to shut up anymore.

"His dick is _so good_." Tooru groans thinking about it. He would've been sadder if he just had to jerk off imagining it all break, if he and Kuroo hadn't started sexting the night he left. "It's like, the perfect thickness? Not that thick, or else I wouldn't have let it anywhere near my ass."

"Thank you," says Iwaizumi, "for letting me picture a dick near your ass." He picks up a magazine, begins to flip through it.

"You're welcome," Tooru says, in all seriousness. "But he's so big, too. And this one time—" God, he doesn't even know if Kuroo had noticed it, but his hand had been gripping the back of Tooru's neck so hard when Tooru was blowing him. Tooru has to stare at a pair of ugly shoes on sale to distract himself.

He realizes a minute later that he'd just cut himself off, but Iwaizumi says, "Don't tell me about this one time," before he can continue. Tooru pouts.

"You're no fun, Iwa-chan."

"I'm just glad that, if anything, sex," and Iwaizumi glances at Tooru, "has gotten you into. This state."

"What state?" Tooru frowns.

"You just seem better than when you started university," says Iwaizumi. "That's all."

Tooru watches as Iwaizumi moves onto the next aisle, staring at some kitchen trinkets. For a moment, Tooru thinks of buying something for Kuroo. He won't, because that will be too sentimental, but.

Iwaizumi's right. He is better than the beginning of the school year. And Tooru knows for certain that's because of Kuroo, and he's okay with that. Kuroo is someone, if anything, and Tooru's okay with the way his mind mostly runs through his class notes, sometimes wondering if Kuroo's available. Knowing if he is.

Break is weird, because he does like being home, but he looks forward to going back to school more. To apply the notes and chapters of books he's now rereading. To see Kuroo again.

*

When he gets back, everything falls into its normal pace again. It's like high school, except without the volleyball. It's even better, maybe, because then he still had to pay attention in class, even though when he studied, half his mind was still strategizing and hypothesizing for practices and games. Now Tooru's on a single track.

Tooru ends up telling Kuroo about his kinks, and they try out several of them—Tooru's kinks are only for when he watches porn, or when his mind drifts when he's jerking it or fucking someone. But they make the regular sex with Kuroo better.

He's reviewing some material for an upcoming small exam one day when something hits him hard from behind. Tooru swivels on his couch to see Kuroo there. Tooru had evidently forgotten to lock his door.

"Kuroo, what the hell?" he cries.

Kuroo shrugs. He picks up his volleyball and says, "Not my fault you left your apartment door open. Do you want to practice volleyball with me?"

Tooru's chest tightens, but it's guilt and want, all twisting into one. It happens when he finds himself thinking about visiting Kuroo at volleyball practice. When, over break, Iwaizumi had invited for him and Matsukawa and Hanamaki to play a casual two on two back in the Aoba Jousai gym. Tooru had declined it.

But Kuroo's here, he's not Iwaizumi, barely knows a thing about Tooru on the court. About the Spring High, except that they'd lost. He doesn't know about the past six years. Or any of the years before that.

He says, "Sure."

Kuroo seems to hesitate, as well, like he hadn't expected Tooru to answer like that. But Tooru takes the opportunity to add, "With you or your team?"

"Just me," says Kuroo.

The knot in Tooru's chest loosens.

"Should be fun," he says, and finds himself grinning.

He changes, gets a water bottle and a towel, and they head to the gym where the volleyball team usually practices. Like Kuroo had promised, no one is there, so they're alone. Tooru takes a deep breath when he steps on.

He hasn't been in the middle of a gym since the Spring Highs had ended in high school.

"Not enough air salonpas," he comments.

He helps Kuroo set up, and Kuroo grabs a volleyball before he can. On the other side of the court, he bounces, and Tooru crouches. The position is so familiar that his body just sinks into it.

The way that Kuroo looks at the ball is mesmerizing, like he's trying to memorize it so that he can learn how to know where it will be without looking at it. Tooru remembers when Kuroo had told him he used to be captain, and he can believe it.

"Any particular reason you wanted me to practice with you?" he asks.

"Well, we've never played against each other before." Kuroo raises his arm. He serves overhead. "And I've never seen you play in person."

He's not playing to the best of his ability because Tooru receives perfectly, bounces it back over.

"Plus," says Kuroo. "I imagine if you devoted so much of your high school time to the sport, you must miss it some days."

How much would Tooru regret it if he told Kuroo he was wrong? Not because he is, but because Tooru's heart knots so much at Kuroo's words that he doesn't need the reassurance Kuroo is right. Kuroo is right. Of course he is. It's been close to a year since the Spring High, and he remembers the way he hadn't wanted to talk about Kuroo with the kids who were still in high school, back in Miyagi, because he was terrified of anyone asking him about volleyball, of suspecting the same thing.

He hits the ball back to Kuroo.

"I miss it every day," he says.

They continue. Tooru kind of hates it how he notices it right away when Kuroo hits the ball and it starts soaring too fast, calls, "Out," when it's on his side of the net, watches the ball bounce past the line.

"Good call," says Kuroo.

Tooru goes to get the ball. He wonders if Kuroo knows enough about his past that he knows that Tooru used to be a service ace. But of course he does.

He tosses up the ball. The motion feels so familiar—he remembers using this against Tobio-chan during the Inter High, and winning. How it hadn't been enough to ever defeat Shiratorizawa, to defeat Ushiwaka-chan.

But he can't find any flaw in it when it goes over the other side of the net. It hits Kuroo's forearms, and bounces off to be Tooru's hypothetical point.

And Kuroo's on the other side of the net. The imaginary Tobio-chan and Ushiwaka-chan disappear. Kuroo's looking like he's just seen that for the first time, which—well. And Tooru grins.

"You've still got it." It's obvious Kuroo's trying to sound resigned, but there's something impressed in his tone. Proud.

*

So it throws him off when about a week later, he texts Kuroo and Kuroo doesn't respond until twenty minutes later.

And when he does, it's with:

_ehhh maybe not_

Tooru had asked him if he was free this evening because he knows Kuroo usually is. And even when he isn't, he usually provides with an answer why. Tooru stares at the text message for a full five minutes.

_ok_

Kuroo doesn't text back, doesn't ask what's wrong. Doesn't follow up with a teasing comment. Tooru kind of feels ridiculous expecting it. Maybe he's over-thinking things. Maybe.

But the next day—it's only a day later, and they usually text all the time, even though Tooru's been initiating for the past several days. But the next day Tooru just sends a _what are u up to_ and prepares himself for everything to be like normal, that Kuroo will respond in ten minutes or less, that he'll apologize for yesterday, that he'll add a winking emoticon or just one of his normal ones with the dumbass noses.

_nothing much. u?_

Tooru's heart sinks. But. But Kuroo had asked about him, so maybe.

_just studyin. could do w some distraction ;))))_

_cool_

Tooru waits. He waits because he doesn't want to send another message, in case Kuroo has more to say. In case Tooru ends up being annoying in a way that matters.

It doesn't really work, though, because Tooru can feel the words pressing back in his throat even though Kuroo's not here, and his fingers are faster than his sense of being, his brain.

_like, do u wanna come over??_

_meh_

What the fuck does 'meh' mean? But maybe Kuroo's just having an off day. Tooru doesn't even know if Kuroo has off days. Maybe this is just a side to him he's never seen before.

His phone pings before he can respond. Tooru's heart jumps. It can't be a bad thing.

_maybe sometime later ill swing by_

This means nothing, and Tooru's heart sinks even lower than it had before. It doesn't sound like Kuroo. But only in that Kuroo's never talked to him this way before. Tooru doesn't know what he did wrong.

*

He invites Kuroo to lunch. Kuroo says yes, and even though it's not the first time since he's been behaving weirdly, Tooru feels both elated yet. Unsatisfied, when he meets Kuroo there, and Kuroo doesn't meet his gaze as often as he does, doesn't touch him as he goes in. He speaks casually, like nothing's wrong. But the way his eyes continuously drop give him away.

Tooru wishes he's just upset they haven't had sex in a while. But he knows that's not it. As Kuroo picks up his menu, Tooru does the same with his.

Then he puts it back down.

"If there's something you've been meaning to say to me, then say it."

If he were a different person, maybe he would've been okay with this limbo. Maybe he would've waited until the standstill blew over, into something new or old or nothing.

But Tooru's been _so good_ at controlling himself so far this school year that the past. However long it's been, even though it's actually been such a short time. All the time before has felt like pieces that he thought were firm into place, but don't actually fit as well as he thought. That they're trying to jiggle themselves out, now.

He can't do anything about it.

But he can, with the way that Kuroo's sitting across from him now, and suddenly Tooru's _angry_ , and god, fuck controlling himself, because where the fuck did this all come from, where did Kuroo's change of behavior come from? "I've noticed your messages," he bites out. "I could be paranoid, but you've been sounding different."

Kuroo hesitates.

Tooru continues.

"You've been speaking in the passive than the usual assertive or interjectory. I don't know if you've noticed, but it's a pretty big difference."

And God, Kuroo just stares at him, just stares at him and all he says is, "Oh," and, "I guess."

Tooru tries to calm himself. "What the hell's been going on?" he asks, in his most controlled voice right now.

Kuroo doesn't meet his eyes, like he hasn't been for this entire conversation. Tooru wants to reach across the table and force him to, but he sits with his fingers tight together, because he's afraid that if he lets go he'll do something he'll regret. His knuckles hurt.

"I'm worried about you."

Chills run over Tooru's skin for no reason. A second later and the back of his shoulders feel like their burning.

The last time he remembers this feeling was the very end of the Spring Highs.

"Worried about me?"

And he's unlaced his fingers, somehow curled them up into fists.

"Oikawa," says Kuroo, and his tone is all wrong, no, _no_ , he's not supposed to be telling Tooru he's worried about him. He's supposed to -

"You've been—we've been too much. For both of us, I think."

Tooru wants to ask him what that means, what _too much_ means, what the fuck does Kuroo think he knows,

"I mean, I don't think there was anything wrong with the sex," Kuroo says, even though he sees Tooru's mouth open, _because_ he sees Tooru's mouth open, and Tooru hesitates anyway and finds it hard to breathe. "Or us, but. You spend so much time with me and I spend enough time with you and with other people, but I hardly. I hardly see you with anyone else, because either you're alone, or. With me."

He's _right_ , but Tooru wants to know what he's getting at, because so what? Instead he says, "That's bullshit. Are you saying that you're tired of me?" wants to hear the answer, just say, yes, _yes_ , make this pain something Tooru can blame him for and get over with.

Kuroo kind of shouts. He raises his voice and Tooru flinches. "Of course I think we're great together," he says, and god, that's funny. That's _funny_. "But I think it's best if I had space, and you had space, for the both of us."

Why do they need to have space? Why do they need to have space when Kuroo's been the only thing Tooru could look forward to in a while, when the silence in his room became too much, when Kuroo was there? Tooru's been having so much damn space in the beginning of the school year.

It's Kuroo's fault that they'd become friends in the first place. It's Kuroo's fault that—this whole thing has been Kuroo's fault. Tooru tries to remember how it'd felt being on the volleyball court and feeling like it was worth it, tries to remember the feeling he'd had when he'd practiced with Kuroo that one time. But he can't remember if that had been real. If he'd really felt anything about volleyball at all.

If it'd all been Kuroo, because Kuroo had been here, and Tooru hasn't even talked to Iwaizumi since winter break ended because when he didn't have schoolwork he had Kuroo, and when he didn't have Kuroo he had schoolwork, and,

he sounds so awful when he says, "Kuroo," but he doesn't care, feels the tears course up his face. It's disgusting and Tooru wants to bury himself but he's here in this restaurant, and Kuroo is sitting across from him, like he's trying to turn so far away.

"We shouldn't have to give each other space if you think that's what's best for me," he says. "That's not fair. You don't know me."

The last part slips out but it's true. Kuroo probably didn't even learn anything from their entire friendship. Anything about him. Tooru is completely fine. He knows what he's doing.

He tries not to believe him when Kuroo says, "I do," tries so, so hard not to believe him when Kuroo tacks on, "I can't promise I'll come back."

But it sounds so useless. It sounds useless, like Tooru has lost a game all over again. That's what he tries to feel, anyway, and he doesn't need to push back the tears anymore. He doesn't need to push back anything anymore.

There's nothing.

Kuroo leaves after the waiter brings their drinks over. Tooru orders and eats in silence.

This is what's good for him. Eating, and drinking. He didn't need Kuroo in the first place. He didn't need anyone in the first place.

He bites into his food and thinks about breaking his phone. About never going back home again. About smiling and talking to people until they leave, like Kuroo has just left him.

*

He only compares it to volleyball because he knows he's right. He knows volleyball more than anything, even though it's been so long since he's actually. Thought about volleyball, like that.

But it doesn't work, because while volleyball was something he chose to dip himself out of, that he can go back to any time but just—doesn't have a reason to. He wants Kuroo back. Kuroo isn't supposed to be gone.

(And volleyball couldn't have left him in the first place.)

He cries when he gets home. Big, ugly tears, in the living room where he and Kuroo had fucked in a non-public space for the first time, under the sunlight in the open windows because he's supposed to be at class but he's not. His chest hurts and he goes to sleep and wakes up starving and eats all the food he can find, cries in his bed, falls asleep with damp blotches on his pillow.

His eyelids feel heavy the next day. His throat tightens and he tries to tell himself to breathe. Yesterday shouldn't have happened. Maybe he can take it all back.

He texts. When Kuroo doesn't answer the first time, he continues. Fuck this. Maybe he'll see how pathetic he is and feel sorry for him and take him back.

Tooru's not supposed to be like this, but his insides hurt and he cries again and it feels like someone is digging a knife into him, twisting and turning just so he feels the pain. Kuroo. It's Kuroo who's twisting the -

 _I think it's best if I had space, and you had space. For the both of us._ And the bullshit about Tooru not being around other people—Tooru doesn't need that. Tooru doesn't need Kuroo, Tooru doesn't need anyone, Tooru thinks about the part of him that hurts of not having Kuroo, sends him more texts, wants to destroy his phone, will scream if he does.

He does it. He goes to Kuroo's volleyball practice, and it hurts more seeing Kuroo than the court. He tries to talk to him, and Kuroo's silence amplifies the pain that not knowing why he should play volleyball anymore used to have.

*

Tooru tries. He tells himself he won't, and then sends texts. He tries to see Kuroo on the train. At his work.

He's been able to study, but some days it gets too much, that that peripheral feeling of Kuroo has suddenly become in the light for too long that everything feels dark when he's gone. He gives up and goes for the beer in the fridge, goes for another, and suddenly he's crying over his phone and sending texts to the goddamn cat emoji that Kuroo had changed his name in Tooru's phone to, all those months ago.

In the morning he remembers about it but sobers up. He cries because he wishes he hadn't, that he's glad that he did, that Kuroo had only replied with _you're drunk_ and hadn't come over to console him.

Tooru yells at Kuroo at his own volleyball practice and Kuroo has the fucking never to say, "Saying you can take care of yourself doesn't make it true, you know, I do want to mind my own damn business, but as someone who cares about you—"

Tooru laughs and almost cries this time! Right in Kuroo's face.

"Say that again," says Tooru. "Say that one more goddamn time—"

"You're bad for me, too."

Tooru doesn't believe a word of it, but he believes that Kuroo just said it. He steps away from him. Kuroo goes on about this bullshit that he thinks how he's been affecting Tooru's academic life, but he's not, because Tooru has excellent concentration. Kuroo _knows_ that. Kuroo is lying to him, lying to keep him away, even though he's already told—even though he's already told Tooru what Kuroo thinks is the goddamn truth and Tooru just wants to shout at him, _STOP SAYING WHAT YOU THINK IS HEALTHY FOR ME._

A few nights later he shoves his hands in his pants, twists angrily at his cock. It hurts and Tooru doesn't have the energy to try to do anything with his asshole, because it's just going to make himself miss Kuroo more again, more than he should. More than what's fair.

He jerks himself off and thinks about how Kuroo used to be, Kuroo's hands around his neck, making Tooru feel like he doesn't have to control everything for once. Kuroo groaning and his disgusting face beading with sweat, eyes half shut as Tooru would ride him. Tooru thinks of Kuroo's dick inside him, anyway, grazes his fingers lightly, sobs into his pillow at how empty he feels.

When he comes, he comes crying for five minutes in his pillow, doesn't want to count how long it's been when it's been too long.

*

Still, despite it all, he manages to keep the height of his chest pains at night, let them dull during the day, like when he'd first known Kuroo and hadn't been friends with him yet. Except now along with knowing that Kuroo exists, comes the space that he'd filled, could've filled, had left.

He passes all his exams with flying colors. His continuous hunt for an internship has paid off, as just a few weeks before the end of the semester, a nearby hospital that's generally well-known in the city and pays well accepts him, and Tooru goes through with the offer. He texts Iwaizumi that afternoon, _im staying for the break!_

_y_

_got an internship at the hospital :D_

Since Kuroo had broken things off, Tooru started texting Iwaizumi again. He's sure Iwaizumi hadn't noticed, or cared much about his silence since break. And Tooru doesn't need to explain himself. He talks about his exams and asks Iwaizumi about back home, and tries, tries not to think that he's replacing Kuroo with Iwaizumi.

He'd known Iwaizumi before, anyway, for most of his life. No one could replace him.

And, anyway, even if Tooru is replacing Kuroo, Iwaizumi is better.

As the spring break starts, he wonders briefly if Kuroo's gone back, before he remembers that he doesn't matter because Kuroo's from Tokyo, anyway. Then his mind wonders if they'll run into each other. A terrible part of Tooru hopes they do, that Tooru can yell at him and tell him on the street what an awful person he is. But he's been wanting to do that ever since that lunch.

He starts up his internship at the hospital. He learns his coworkers, the regular patients, and something familiar seeps into his brain. The part where he'd observed his old volleyball teammates off the court just to learn how to utilize them on the court.

And there's something that automatically tells him how he won't have this internship eventually, that none of this will really matter, that he'll move on.

He tries. He tries to ignore it, because that's. Well, that's right, but he hears Kuroo saying _I hardly see you with anyone else, because either you're alone, or with me_ and that's wrong because Tooru goes to class, has a job now, even between all the times even when he and Kuroo aren't fucking or talking and Tooru's not studying. And Tooru still feels, feels like Kuroo's not really there, and he shouldn't have been surprised he'd gone away, and.

No. Kuroo's wrong. All of this is wrong. He still doesn't need Kuroo, doesn't need anyone. He's friendly with his coworkers and the doctors and the nurses, winks at the patients, consoles the children who are always fond of him when they start crying.

He doesn't ignore the voice that says that this will go away and mean nothing. He ignores the words that Kuroo had never said. That his being like this, and Tooru will always be alone.

*

As it turns out, Kuroo is staying on campus for the break. Tooru sees him with someone he works with, and god, Kuroo thinks he's better than Tooru, doesn't he.

Tooru ends up yelling and almost crying and almost, almost getting kicked out of the bar. In the morning he remembers and feels embarrassed but doesn't cry. Instead, he wishes Kuroo hadn't moved, that he'd hit Kuroo for real.

The semester starts again, feeling faster than the last had ended. He sees Kuroo on the train again, resists the urge to tell him that he's wrong, that he doesn't need anyone, that he's fine. Like this.

But he hates it, goes to one of Kuroo's volleyball practices anyway, in case it will spite him.

His classes are more intensive this year. It's a viable distraction for him, actually, and the information and thoughts shove aside his feelings, whatever pain, the days that pass when he doesn't have work and only says ten words in his whole cycle of being awake. But that doesn't even happen that often, because he usually has work, and all his coworkers will never see him again eventually, and when one of them flirts with him, he flirts back because their supervisors can see how well he gets along with them, will increase their opinions of him and that's what matters in the long run.

Sex hadn't been a regular thing for him in the first place, but his interest has dropped since Kuroo's absence. He doesn't even feel bad about it, because he doesn't _need_ it—he kicks off his pants, climbs into bed, touches himself without throwing his blanket over him. He and Kuroo fucked here. And he's sure that Kuroo's in a similar state, looking around his own apartment, seeing all the places he and Tooru had fucked—his kitchen table, his kitchen counter, his bed and bedroom floor and living room floor and couch. Thinking about Tooru, how much he misses Tooru, and Tooru thinks about Kuroo coming to him begging for forgiveness.

Tooru comes, bites his lip as he does, thinks about how he just wants things to be the way they were before. Kuroo and schoolwork and sleep. He dreams of Kuroo not talking to him, not taking him back, and the closing feeling in his throat is no less painful than when he's awake.

*

He realizes as he's studying that the suffocating in his throat isn't just the pain. It's the silence.

He takes out his phone.

_hey, can i talk to u?_

Iwaizumi, bless him, responds almost right away.

_yea sure_  
_phone call?_

_no, this is fine_

Tooru doesn't want to cry, anyway.

_I've been_  
_weird, i guess. kuroo's been weird. well._  
_he hasn't been talking to me_  
_I havent been talking to him either to be fair_

_right_

_and now i can_  
_Well if i try not to i can not think about him, but even then im thinking about him_

_that doesnt make sense:P_

_shut up_  
_its been weird I guess since im used to having him arnd_  
_not just physically or virtually just. there_

_well that makes sense_

_like he was here for break and i didnt know till the end_

_o yea i heard_

Tooru's about to type out a continuation, when he halts at Iwaizumi's last text. His brain backspaces anything he might've ended up tacking on, and his eyes go back and forth, back and forth, over _o yea i heard o yea i heard o yea i heard o yea i heard_.

The whole moment must less than a second because Iwaizumi doesn't say anything about it.

_what do u mean by that_

_i meant_

He gets this right away, and Tooru stares at his screen intently. Iwaizumi doesn't. Wouldn't. Isn't.

Iwaizumi is a two hour bus ride away and he shouldn't—

_fuck_  
_im sorry Oikawa_

His heart is racing so fast and Tooru is blinking and cold, heat rushes over his body.

_what the fuck are you sorry for_

_i have kuroos number i wasnt supposd to tell y_

and Tooru's already opening up a new message, and this time he's not texting because he's drunk, or because he's pathetic, or because,

_are you fucking kidding me?_  
_when the fuck did you get iwachans number??_  
_what the FUCK kuroo_  
_what the hell are you talking to hajime for ??? mind ur own damn business_  
_holy fuck ing shit i cant believe this_

The more he types, the more his fingers shake. He's always been a fast typer, but he's blinking back tears and it's a miracle how fucking coherent his texts come out. The clicking from his texting echoes in his ears, echoes around the whole apartment, louder than the kitchen clock, and the silence is so, so much less about Kuroo's absence now, about,

_its my mistake_

Tooru laughs as he goes back to his conversation with Iwaizumi, closes out. He laughs, he really, really wants to throw his phone now. He almost does, against the wall across the couch and coffee table, but then he'd need to pay the damages for everything and the phone and he doesn't know why his mind is so clear when, how long have they had each other's numbers, why, have they been talking since—

_what did he tell you_  
_what did YOu tell him_  
_did he say something to make you do this to me??? Im going to kick both of ur asses_

And he goes back to Iwaizumi, and he just wants to say it over and over, again, he

_its the both of u_  
_I LITERALLY CANT BELIEVE THIS_  
_WHY THE FUCK DID U HAVE EACH OTERHS NUMBERS_  
_WHAT THE FUCK HAVE U BEEN TELLING EACH OTH OTER_

Tears are pricking at his eyes. He doesn't care, doesn't deserve this. Doesn't deserve,

_to be fair i didnt mind talking to him_

_SHUT THE FUCK UP HAJIME_

And then his phone pings with the notification of Kuroo's text.

_he didn't say anything, i made the decision all by myself_

Who are these assholes, two people he thought used to be his best friends, talking about him behind his back? A good thing? Kuroo's decision? Tooru wants to scream—fuck throwing his phone, he'll crush it in his fingers, let the plastic cut into him, let it—

_bullshit_  
_what did u say to him_  
_this isnt fair NEITHER OF YOU ARE FAIR_

He stares at his phone. He goes back to his conversation with Iwaizumi, who at that moment sends a text that says,

_i think us talking was good_

Tooru wants to call Iwaizumi to yell at him. To tell him it doesn't fucking matter if Iwaizumi thought it was good.

He doesn't answer, and then Kuroo texts back.

_i just wanted to ask iwaizumi a few things about you_  
_that's all, okay?_

_thats all? that's nOT fuckign okay, how tf did u get his number_

And why would Iwaizumi think it's good? He's always been on his side, hadn't asked any questions about after break, hasn't said, hasn't asked—

 _what did u ask abt me what did h e say_ , Tooru sends.

The plainness of Kuroo's response hits him like a forward spike.

_we talked about how youre clingy and dependent. there._

It feels like Kuroo is ending things with him again. Except it's not, because he's saying _we_ , like Iwaizumi. Like this is. Like Tooru doesn't know what's happening anymore, if both Kuroo and Iwaizumi are wrong, like Tooru doesn't know who he is. The world doesn't feel real and Tooru doesn't know if he'd forgive them more than now if Kuroo and Iwaizumi told him that they're just joking, conspiring against him, lying to him for whatever fucked up reason.

But Iwaizumi wouldn't. And Tooru's hair is awful and he shoves his fingers in it, because as much as he wants to believe everything he's been telling himself about Kuroo, he. He wouldn't lie to him about himself, about Iwaizumi, and Tooru would not give a damn if this whole building collapsed into this small room and he crashed down with it.

_iwa chan said that about me?_

_he agrees that it's a consistent bad habit_  
_you didn't tell him what you're studying_

The tears leak fast and heavy and salty without his permission. When Tooru checks his phone again, it's just an apology from Kuroo for stealing Iwaizumi's number. But none of that matters anymore.

*

Tooru tries to calculate where he went wrong with Kuroo. Maybe the parts where he assumed the times Kuroo was free but Kuroo was hanging out with classmates or coworkers and invited him and Tooru had said no. Maybe the parts where Kuroo asked him if he was free, and Tooru should've said something other than yes, or no because he had class. Maybe the parts where Tooru should've lied.

He gets drunk and horny and wants to fuck Kuroo into his mattress, wants to fuck both of them into his mattress until they're mindless and gone and nothing in the world. When he wakes up after that night he realizes with belated horror that he'd texted Kuroo about all of this, had apologized for all of it.

He goes to the cafe for lunch later that week. His chest hurts when he sees Kuroo there. He's not supposed to be working right now. Tooru apologizes to him anyway.

Kuroo says it's okay, but Tooru doesn't believe him.

Over the days, the weeks, the time that he can't keep track of anymore, his mind drifts from his schoolwork. He keeps with his schedule, but his head is in the spaces where socializing had been a strategy, where Iwaizumi had been a routine, as much as eating and breathing and sleeping.

And he texts Iwaizumi about it, because Iwaizumi is so far away, and as much as he makes fun of Tooru he's never stopped responding.

_So you know what kuroo and i were going thru all along didnt u_

_yea_  
_sorry_

_I cant say im still not angry_

_i dont blame you_  
_but i think kuroo did the only thing he could do_

_he told me in the beginning that it was bc he cared abt me_

_it was_  
_I care abt u, too_

He thinks about how he'd told himself for years, for years and years and years, how he could only be good at volleyball if he practiced harder than everyone else because he wasn't naturally good at it. At least, that's what he'd thought when he'd seen Ushiwaka, Tobio-chan, all the geniuses who told him that he was good, who Tooru strived to be better than.

And it didn't work anyway, because he's not a genius. He worked hard, but it never caught up to the geniuses, and he never had any time in the first place.

So why is he working so hard right now? On his studies, on his schoolwork that he does amazingly on, that he gets three hours of sleep on a regular basis for. He doesn't even want to be the best person in the medical field. He just. He just.

He studies and has stellar grades, anyway, fantastic recommendations, a steady income of both money and networking for the future. The part with Kuroo shouldn't matter. The part where Iwaizumi had apparently agreed that Tooru's "clingy and dependent" shouldn't matter.

Yet he thinks about before Kuroo, how so much had changed when Kuroo had pestered him, when Tooru had— When Tooru had let him, because Kuroo was so damn annoying, but not really because he's kind of fantastic at sex and makes Tooru look forward to their conversations and being around him, makes his spine tingle even when Tooru had yelled at him in the bar and his throat felt like it was being thrown out of his body.

The weeks continue on. Tooru begins to find that he loses himself in his schoolwork too easily, hates himself when he's not doing it, not thinking about it. He remembers how quickly he hated himself back in middle and high school when volleyball wasn't on his mind. When he fell ill and couldn't practice and felt useless—not just an itch to play, but a dragging need to. He wants to scream. He wants to scream, because everyone else had been right.

But his classmates aren't much different from last year. Some of them ask him for help, especially when they see his grades on his tests. He hesitates, does. Walks with them longer than he would before. He still doesn't want to do study groups, but.

The coworker who'd been flirting with him before asks him out and Tooru says no. But he listens when some others talk about them all going to karaoke together. A part of him wonders if any of them know who Kuroo is, if he can be friends with some of Kuroo's friends. But that's weird, because he and Kuroo aren't even friends anyway, and. Tooru's always known he can fend for himself.

It's still something. And he knows that one of Kuroo's volleyball games is coming up. He'd heard, when he'd went to that practice when the semester had started. He goes to the gym during when he thinks is early, but ends up finding the team boarding the bus, about to leave.

He says, "Kuroo," lets his name spill, before his tongue can take it back.

Kuroo says, "Hey," almost immediately back. He clears his throat. "What are you doing here?"

It's only proper that Tooru doesn't ignore the real reason Kuroo's here. He glances around, because. He's usually on the other end.

"Good luck," he says to Kuroo.

Kuroo actually smiles. It makes Tooru's breath hitch. Maybe something's changed.

But Kuroo had been right all along.

"Thanks," he says, and starts turning around.

Tooru stares at his back. Maybe they'll end it like this. It's less painful. Tooru knows that he—

Well. He doesn't really believe in destiny, and Kuroo chooses what to do.

Kuroo turns around.

Tooru opens his mouth. He expects something like an apology, or telling Kuroo he's right, or.

Nothing.

The coach asks if Kuroo's ready to leave.

Tooru watches as Kuroo stares at him, says, "Hold on," to the coach, and walks up to Tooru.

He says to Tooru, "I want to talk later."

And that hitch goes all the way down to his middle, like, god. He doesn't deserve this, he shouldn't, but. But Kuroo is looking at him like he already knows, like he believes in Tooru, and Tooru doesn't know where it came from but he'll take it.

"Are you—Really?"

Kuroo watches him. Tooru wishes nothing else but to know what Kuroo's thinking in the moment, but he's still recycling Kuroo's _I want to talk later_ , how he might go to karaoke with his coworkers in the future, how. How physical ability had never been his forte anyway, but there's something in the way he—Tooru feels his own overconfidence mixed with the anxiety of Kuroo in front of him wash over him, as he waits for Kuroo's answer.

Kuroo says, "I'm sure."

*

He doesn't know when the game will end, as university matches don't go on tv. During when he's sure it should be over, he sends,

_Hey, congrats on winning!_  
_im sure u led everyone to kick ass_

Kuroo doesn't respond. But he's surely having a good time with his teammates, so Tooru tries not to think too much of it.

An hour later, he sends another text.

_when r u getting back?_

And then when he's taking a break from his studying, hours after he's eaten dinner, he types out a couple more.

_Idk if u got my texts from earlier but i heard u won_  
_you should teach me some of ur skills ;P_

He decides to stop, tries not to think so much about it anymore. Now that Kuroo's asked to talk to him, it would. It would be so easy to revert, to Kuroo's attention to him and his own attention to his textbooks. He closes his textbook and instead texts a classmate whose number he'd gotten last week.

The thought of how Kuroo would like to know about this passes through his head, but he shakes it away. And there's the thought, that he might say something wrong, that his classmate might end up hating him. That he'll revert from this, too.

He never realized how easy it is to fall.

But that doesn't happen tonight, and he actually forgets about his texts to Kuroo for a while, about his schoolwork, in his conversation with his classmate. Right before he goes to sleep he remembers Kuroo, but Kuroo had promised to talk to him, and. Tooru had believed him.

He doesn't get a response, though. Maybe Kuroo's busy, and Tooru—his chest tightens, at how he'd thought he'd fucked up before. But that had nothing to do with what he said or didn't say to Kuroo, despite what his foggy head had told him several times before.

_hey, did you still want to talk?_

Kuroo doesn't respond right away. But he responds.

_oh yeah, of course!_

Tooru's fingers hover over the keys. He realizes they're clammy, his palms are clammy and disgusting, and it doesn't stop when he wipes them on his jeans. He shakes, bites his lip. His throat is tight again.

He's not supposed to react like this. He knows Kuroo wants to talk to him ( _butwhatifIfuckupbutwhatifIfuckup_ ), he'd said so when Tooru had gone to him before his volleyball game. Tooru had not annoyed him. Kuroo had been the one to ask him.

He calms himself for the day. He distracts himself with eating, helping a classmate who'd texted him about homework, drinking. Sleeping.

He remembers about Kuroo's text the next morning and his chest feels fine.

_sorry for not replying yesterday_

Kuroo replies fast. Tooru reminds himself to breathe.

_it's cool_  
_u still on for talking too?_

Tooru tries to make it seem like he's not responding too quickly.

_yea_

He stares at the word. Maybe he shouldn't have apologized. Maybe he shouldn't have fucking freaked out in the first place and replied like a normal person yesterday when he had the chance.

God, Kuroo had confronted him. Kuroo had told him and practically shouted at him at a restaurant for how fucked up Tooru was. Is, kind of. How he'd actually threatened to not come back. How terrible Tooru had been when he was drunk, with his phone in his hand, texting and pressing enter and trying not to throw up.

_are you angry? sorry_

_i said its cool!_  
_not everyone has the time to cater to my every whims_  
_:^P_

Tooru hates the spark of hope that flares in his chest.

_not that, when u_  
_last semester_

_no, but i don't think this is something we should talk about over text_

And that's another promise that he can read.

_ah_  
_tru e_

Kuroo suggests that they talk tomorrow, which Tooru agrees to. He waits, and studies, not because he wants to, but because he needs to and nothing else will drag his mind away. He studies until it's dark, and then it's light again, and his mind is filled with things he should write down, and Kuroo, and then his phone buzzes.

It feels like he's just picking up from their conversation today—yesterday. But Tooru feels wide awake when he reads the screen.

_are you busy this morning?_

_not particularly_  
_time to talk?_

_if ur up for it_

_alright_  
_should i come over?_

Tooru's changing out of his clothes from yesterday while he sends the text. His clothes smell.

_sure, whenever your ready_

He ties his shoelaces.

_im pretty ready_  
_see you soon_

He's halfway down the hall when another thought occurs to him.

_oh yeah, u still live in the same place right?_

_ye_

The walk over feels both strange and familiar. Tooru can't remember the last time he'd gone over to Kuroo's. He backtracks it to mid-January, is trying to calculate the precise date and time when he stops in front of Kuroo's apartment door. He takes a deep breath. He knocks.

It takes a moment before Kuroo's opening the door.

"Hi," Tooru says, and smiles. He know he just saw Kuroo, but. Kuroo's been expecting him.

Tooru feels proud that he had kept this promise.

"Hi," says Kuroo, awkwardly steps so Tooru can walk in. Tooru has his hands in his pockets so he doesn't pick at them, itch at them, do something to distract himself. He needs to focus on everything else right now.

He looks around Kuroo's apartment. It's been months, but it doesn't look like it. "Not much has changed," he says.

He hears the shifting of shoulders, of the door closing. "You know me," says Kuroo's voice.

Tooru walks into the living room. He turns around so he's facing Kuroo, leans against the couch. His eyes scan over Kuroo's face as he waits—he doesn't know. Both of them had agreed to be here. And Kuroo just props himself on a chair, waits for Tooru back.

It's Tooru's fault they're here. It's Tooru's fault that they'd gotten so sucked into their relationship in the first place. If he hadn't— _clingy and dependent_ , he remembers, on Kuroo, on Iwaizumi when he could, on volleyball and schoolwork and the few, few things, that he's been shutting out everything else from himself his whole life.

He says, "Sorry," can't look Kuroo in the eye. God, he's going to cry again. "I'm. Being ridiculous."

But he remembers. He's here now, rights himself. Holds himself, because that is enough.

"Iwa-chan told me he thought what you were doing was good," he says. Well. "Better. You have a point, saying that." He chest constricts. He tries to uncoil it. "I repeat myself. I don't change easily." He tries to look at Kuroo as he says this, but it comes a little belated. "I don't—I don't regret having you, as a. Whatever we were before."

It's been so much not about the sex, but Tooru thinks about it anyway, about if he had the choice he'd want it again. So he says, "I liked that, but it's not—" Licks his lips.

"I didn't believe you when you told me that I was bad for you," Tooru confesses. "And when you said you wouldn't come back." He feels a ridiculous smile tug at his lips. "Because you did, but I—I don't deserve it."

The words are so loud in the living room, especially since that it sounds like Kuroo's not breathing? And Tooru feels like he's breathing too fast. His chest hurts and he tries to remember the last time he ate. But it's not about that. He tries to relax himself.

"We were fine. But I was not—I haven't been able to get myself out of—"

Out of volleyball. Out of working, of working, of himself, nobody, and then Kuroo. And it's the same, it's the same, it's always been the same, the doors on his chest that he's trying so hard to begin to open.

He's not talking to Kuroo when he says, "I need to stop this. I need to stop being so—<i>damned</i>—pathetic."

He is and he has and he's always been, the way he'd blamed himself for the Spring High instead of taking it in stride, still seeing Tobio-chan and Ushiwaka-chan on a level he'll never have the time to climb. And then throwing himself into work right away, books and school, never considering for a moment in his life that people aren't there just to toss to him or to serve to him or to know him for so long that he still ignores it when they tell him not to work himself to the point of injury. It's pitiful.

"I don't want to push you away again."

Tooru hadn't expected that. He lifts his head up, a little, doesn't want to stare.

Kuroo keeps talking.

"I'm really," he says. "I'm definitely in love with you," and Tooru's heart almost stops, "even though we've only known each other a little shy of a year." He sounds embarrassed. "But it's—I don't know why I didn't know before. Maybe because I didn't think I would," and Tooru's staring at him openly now, doesn't know if he's actually hearing the words falling from Kuroo's mouth, "or because you don't present yourself, really, as someone you expect other people to. To fall in love with."

Tooru's chest feels so tight and it doesn't _hurt_.

Kuroo says, "It's funny, that I pushed you away when I've been. Feeling. This." He waves his hands.

Tooru just asks, "How did you know?" and it sounds stupid because Kuroo had used the present tense and Tooru had used the past.

But Kuroo says, "You know what they say about the love and the dramas, things like that." He waves his hands in the direction of his tv. "I didn't—we never had room to sort out that aspect of us."

It's. Tooru must be asleep. Dreaming.

"I didn't think about it," he says.

"Neither did I," says Kuroo. "But, it shouldn't have been hard, shouldn't it? When we were having sex."

That's not how Tooru sorts it out, and he explains, "You weren't my first." Still, this whole. Beyond his previous obsessiveness with Kuroo, the want to fuck him and talk about stupid shit, he still feels it. The want to be with Kuroo, hearing Kuroo in his kitchen for the first time, the. Knowing that he has him, that he doesn't deserve him but he's here, even when he's on the toilet or drowning in schoolwork. The absolute giddiness that reminder gives him.

And Kuroo says, "I expected that," and he grins and Tooru grins back, only naturally.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know what it means, you know how you are."

Even on the wavering stage, Tooru feels like he has him again, for that second.

Kuroo continues, "At the same time, as much as this—all of this—" He stutters, like he's trying to find the right words, and Tooru just wants to tell him that god, it doesn't matter, as long as he doesn't stop looking at him like this.

Kuroo says, "I want you to take care of yourself. I don't just want to love you."

And Tooru doesn't want more. Well, he doesn't want more or less, but only because Kuroo's not like him, doesn't feed and drop and tries to find what works or doesn't work. Tooru wishes he met Kuroo sooner.

"You do know you've been right about me," Tooru says. "Even with the lying, there was no—I know why you did it, and you told me why."

Kuroo nods. "I like—I don't like not being around you," he says, "but I want you to be healthy—"

It's nothing new, but Tooru doesn't need him to continue, because he knows. He agrees.

"And having only you around is unhealthy."

Tooru remembers so long ago, when Kuroo had told him how his best friend from Nekoma wouldn't have let him not go to university just for his friend's sake. But Kuroo had told Tooru how his friend had been a shut-in obsessed with video games, until Kuroo made him do volleyball, had introduced him to other people. His friend's attitude toward him must've been Kuroo's doing in the first place.

And, goddamn, Kuroo's the one standing here looking at Tooru like all he wants to do is close the space between them and Tooru has to resist giving him the okay for that.

Tooru says, "That you tried so hard to be my friend in the first place was better—best," he corrects. "The best thing that happened to me last year, despite our—falling out. But people usually don't," shit, okay, his throat stops again, "I usually don't try to keep people around. But I did that with you, so. That's something."

"That's something," Kuroo agrees.

And it's. It can't be the first time, but it must, because Iwaizumi had just kind of stuck around, Tooru never kept up with his other friends after elementary and middle school, and his high school friends—there's still a chance, but he hasn't tried. He hasn't thought about trying.

Kuroo isn't work or a sport, and just because Tooru might, might be a little in love with him doesn't mean Kuroo's special in being kept around. Because Tooru has his new classmates now, new numbers in his phone, his coworkers, and—"I've tried, I'm trying. It's not the same when you've." _Given me a second chance._

"And Iwa-chan won't let me go," Tooru can't help adding, can't help smirking. "Not like I'd let him."

Kuroo chuckles too, nods.

Tooru adds, "Plus, I."

He should confess, really, since Kuroo did. He shouldn't just assume that Kuroo knows his feelings even though they're both here, and Tooru's already told Kuroo why he's glad he's here, but.

But Kuroo's still breathtaking on the days Tooru can't sleep and watches the way the sunlight washes over Kuroo's face in the mornings. In the way his fingers still burn when they brush against each other's when they're out in public, and Tooru doesn't think about them inside his ass, just. Just wants to feel them again. He turns away, feels his face heating, because now this looks so obvious.

He decides to say, "I guess I never really thought about it, because I just—I guess things like this blur together for me." Because they do, from the moment he'd woken up in Kuroo's apartment for the first time, when he gave Kuroo on the hours after his birthday had ended.

Tooru says, "I think my feelings for you are the same as your. The ones for me. Your feelings for me."

He's been talking for too long.

But Kuroo doesn't make fun of his sloppy execution, just raises his eyebrows and everything feels like it's being lifted off. "You think?" he says to Tooru, and for some reason this makes Tooru feel like everything will be okay.

"Asshole," he replies.

*

Kuroo's late again.

Tooru tries not to worry, _tries_ being the modifying word. Kuroo's been late before; the first time it happened, Tooru had remembered the beginning of the year, ran through all of their previous interactions, tried to find any instance he'd fucked up. Kuroo had come into the hospital fifteen minutes later, complaining about construction work and then surveyors on the street.

Tooru's just glad he hadn't thought himself into a panic attack.

But Kuroo comes in a few minutes later, carrying his tacky lunch bag. All of Tooru's thoughts go away, and he grins.

"Doctor," Kuroo greets him, and Tooru rolls his eyes.

"Don't call me that. Someone will think you're serious."

"Better not fuck up a surgery," says Kuroo, and Tooru hits him.

"Shut up. You know surgery's on the fifth floor."

"Yeah, yeah." Kuroo leans against the counter, hovers above Tooru's workspace. The first time he'd come here, he'd marveled at Tooru's desk so loudly that Tooru had to drag him away and kiss him until Kuroo's lips were too sore to be obnoxious. His supervisor had scolded him for fooling around on the job, but he'd helped out with some especially rowdy kids later that day, so it was nothing to worry about.

"Slow day?" Kuroo asks, as Tooru returns to the papers he's checking.

"Slow enough," Tooru replies. "No break, though," he adds, when Kuroo opens his mouth. "I'm tackling a pile of errands in an hour."

"An hour." Kuroo scoffs. "That's plenty of time."

"For you to eat, maybe," says Tooru, and ignores Kuroo's whines and puppy faces as he settles in one of the spare chairs. Kuroo pouts and starts to eat lunch.

But midway through the hour, Tooru gets out of his desk and goes over to him. He kisses Kuroo firm on the mouth, even though Kuroo tastes like fish and seaweed. No one else will come by for at least a couple of minutes, and they all know that Kuroo is Tooru's friend, at the least. It's enough.

Kuroo grins when they break apart. "You taste like fish."

"Thanks to you." Tooru scrunches his nose and sticks his tongue out. "I'm never kissing you again."

"That," says Kuroo, "is a bold-faced lie."

*

Even though the schoolwork is more than last year, and even though Tooru still works as much as he did last year, everything feels clearer as he focuses on Kuroo, on work, on the people he passes on the street and in his classroom building hallways.

And it doesn't really feel like anything anymore when he starts going to Kuroo's volleyball practices. Kuroo actually introduces him to his coach, which kind of goes expected when the coach does a double take at Tooru's name.

Tooru doesn't join the team, as much as the members beg him to when he participates in the six-on-six matches, since the team has only eleven people. He tells them and Kuroo it's because he doesn't want to embarrass himself if he gets injured as a med student. But everything that's been lurking in the back of his mind has only been freshly ignored.

Still, summer is warmer than the winter, even the spring, and when they're out for Tooru's birthday, Tooru asks Kuroo if he wants to come to Miyagi with him. Kuroo says yes.

They take the train, which Kuroo has apparently taken to Miyagi before, a couple of years back when Nekoma and Karasuno had a practice match. When Kuroo tells him this, Tooru laughs and says, "You should've said hi to me at Aoba Jousai," and Kuroo says, "You would've hated me," and Tooru says, "Probably."

The ride is pretty long, a little around three hours, but passes by quickly. Kuroo stares at the countryside through the window, and Tooru reads his textbook. After a while, he closes it and leans on Kuroo's shoulder.

"I get to meet Iwa-chan," Kuroo says into his hair.

"You do," Tooru agrees, and then, "Don't call him that again."

He sits back up. Kuroo's watching him, smiling in a way that Tooru has asked him about before, that Kuroo has said, "Nothing," to, that Tooru figures it's probably best if he doesn't know, anyway. He probably knows the answer.

He hasn't really talked to Matsukawa or Hanamaki, but he does text Iwa-chan. Like normal. He imagines Iwaizumi will want him to hang out with them again, play volleyball with the others. Tooru tells himself that he'll agree to it.

Besides, Kuroo might get along with them.

He sighs. "I keep," he says, and Kuroo turns to him. "Thinking how much I fucked up, two years ago."

When Kuroo frowns, Tooru says, "The Spring Highs, when we were third years."

"Ah," says Kuroo. "Right. Because of Karasuno."

Tooru laughs at the spite in Kuroo's voice, but it's really fake, and Tooru's is. Well.

"It was my fault," he says. "That we'd lost. Because I was the last person to touch the ball," he adds, when Kuroo opens his mouth, like he's about to say that Tooru shouldn't be so hard on himself. Kuroo closes his mouth, and Tooru knows he's right.

"Since then, it'd just been all or nothing," he says. "Our whole first year in university. Why everything," his breath catches, and he tries to focus on the way Kuroo's leaning into him, their knees touching.

Kuroo says, "It's not everything."

"It is," Tooru insists. "I should've changed from that, but I didn't. It made me worse." He bites his lip, because that makes him sound like he was bad in the first place. But he was.

Kuroo says, "But look where you are now."

"But look where I am now." Tooru tries to smile. Kuroo knows it's still hard for him, that it is, it _is_ a real effort to try not to drown in one or two things. That keeping control is harder than working on whatever he's focusing on instead.

Kuroo says, "Man, I really wanna make out with you," and Tooru doesn't know if that's because he's proud or wants to distract him. He's glad for it either way.

"There are restrooms in this train," he says.

Kuroo practically jumps out of his seat. "Let's go for it."

*

They've already discussed moving in together, but when Tooru wakes up on an early October morning, rolls over to watch Kuroo still sleeping next to him, he realizes how much he can't wait for Kuroo's lease to expire in only a couple of months.

He lets Kuroo sleep in. Sometimes he's obnoxious, will trace patterns on Kuroo's muscles or blow raspberries on his stomach to wake him up. Tooru even tried getting Kuroo to jog with him in the morning once, but he'd turned around and found that a half a mile ago, Kuroo had fallen asleep on a bench. He'd dumped his water bottle on Kuroo in revenge.

He takes his laptop out to his living room, just after Iwaizumi sends him a text that says, _wanna skype?_

_is there something u want to say to me, iwachan?_

Once the application is open and both their webcams are on, Iwaizumi says, "There's nothing I want to say to you, asshole."

"I guess I'll hang up then," Tooru jokes.

He doesn't, and Iwaizumi doesn't even look worried. He'd been great during the summer break, and Tooru had been right—he did introduce Kuroo to Seijou and the ex-third and second-turned-third years. Tooru keeps saying that he was the one who introduced them, but he knows that Iwaizumi had, technically.

Iwaizumi had also been great to bother, especially with Kuroo around. Tooru had been worried at first, since Kuroo had easily given into Iwaizumi's request of playing video games with him. Tooru hates video games.

But then Kuroo had given him a handjob in Iwaizumi's bathroom. So that's okay.

Iwaizumi says, "You look well," so Tooru presumes they've moved on.

"I don't know if I can say the same for you," he says cheekily. "You always look like you've got a stick up your ass."

"It's because I've always got you up my ass," says Iwaizumi, and then frowns. "Figuratively."

"You wish not figuratively."

"I really, truly don't."

Tooru tilts his head. Iwaizumi always scans his face every time he sees him. He has, since. Tooru can't remember. Definitely before this year. Before he started university. Before so much.

Tooru smiles, biting his tongue. "Sorry," he says.

Iwaizumi frowns. "What the hell are you apologizing for?"

"How do you expect me to apologize when you talk to me in a tone like that?" Tooru says, but shifts out. "For the past. Since the Spring High, when I was. Being terrible to you."

"Oh."

Iwaizumi stares at him.

"Well," he says. "Thanks."

Tooru hollers.

"Hey! You're supposed to say how it's okay!"

"Well it's not! Do you know how much I worried about you then?"

"You _worried about me_? I told you, Iwa-chan, you're not my mother—"

*

They're napping in the afternoon when a loud clap of thunder sounds outsides their window. Tooru's eyes snap open awake, and he feels Kuroo shift a little underneath him.

"Holy shit," Kuroo mutters, rubbing his eyes awake.

The rain starts pattering down the windows of Kuroo's bedroom. Tooru stares, as Kuroo rolls out of bed, pads out into the hallway. He comes back a few minutes later, and Tooru turns around to see him with a bowl of leftovers.

"Oh," says Tooru, crawling over. "Can I have some?"

Kuroo shoves a clump into his mouth with his chopsticks. "Get some yourself."

Tooru pouts. "You got yourself food but not any for me?"

Kuroo lifts up his bowl and chopsticks. "I only have two hands."

Tooru grumbles, but says, "Fine." He climbs out of Kuroo's bed, goes to the kitchen, opens the refrigerator door, and looks for something he can eat.

It's not that his running thoughts haven't gone away completely, that he doesn't feel himself bouncing from the different moods, that his chest barely clutches with anxiety anymore. But he's immersed himself so much with Kuroo, with now, especially when he feels the pressure starting to rise throughout his body again. They're easier to monitor, to recognize, especially when he feels like he sees himself back on the court in high school, even though it's been almost two years. He'd flinched when he saw shrimpy-kun and Tobio-chan over summer break, but. Only once, and that had been it.

Kuroo keeps him occupied in his own way, and only in that Tooru looks forward to going home when Kuroo says he can't visit him in the hospital, but not that that's the highlight of his day. Because he kind of loves the satisfaction when he makes kids stop crying and his coworkers and his patients look impressed; and he enjoys talking with his classmates about their schoolwork as much as he enjoys the schoolwork itself.

He never really believed in the limit for energy in the first place, just the limit for time. But without a goal that doesn't feel like a looming monster he's not a genius for, time is slower, giving Tooru more chances to regain control of himself. And that's how he works best.

So he manages to find something in Kuroo's fridge, anyway—well, some more leftovers, because Kuroo's good at cooking but he always cooks too much. He brings it back to Kuroo's room. Kuroo says, "Hey, I was saving that for tomorrow's lunch," and Tooru rolls his eyes.

"You have more."

"Give me some! I was looking forward to eating that."

"You didn't give me any of yours."

"It's _my food_."

They end up spilling some on Kuroo's bed and Kuroo groans and Tooru jokes about what if they have sex on the stained spot. They do. Then they shower and Kuroo changes the sheets and tells Tooru that Tooru's doing Kuroo's laundry. Tooru doesn't necessarily agree to it.

*

The next time Tooru's at Kuroo's place, he's helping him pack everything away.

Well, he's supposed to, when he's observing Kuroo's boxes, with a big black marker. He sits cross-legged on the floor and doodles on them. Kuroo comes into the living room with a pile of clothes in his arms.

"You can start—hey!" Kuroo drops his clothes on the sofa. "What are you doing?"

"Labeling your boxes."

Kuroo bends over, so that the part of his bangs that usually brushes over his eyes falls over. He reads Tooru's neat print of "collection of fake dicks."

"I do not," Kuroo says, straightening up as dignified as he can. A piece of hair falls in his face. He blows it up, but it falls right back down. "Have a collection of fake dicks."

"I'll give you some for Christmas." Tooru hums as he closes the marker.

Kuroo grabs for it, has it before Tooru can react, and is scratching Tooru's label away.

"Please don't get me fake dicks for Christmas."

"Valentine's Day then," says Tooru, and Kuroo shakes his head. "White Day."

"I'll get _you_ a collection of fake dicks," says Kuroo.

"Only if they're shaped like yours."

Kuroo laughs. He laughs, but as Tooru stands up, Kuroo's eyes linger on him, like talking about wanting a bunch of dicks shaped like his own is the nicest thing Tooru's ever said to him.

"Is that your idea of being romantic?" Kuroo asks.

"If it's the kind of romance you're okay with," Tooru replies.

He kisses Kuroo, and Kuroo holds onto his face, and it's kind of great because Tooru's arms are dangling uselessly at his sides but his tongue is in Kuroo's mouth and Kuroo sucks, kisses back so that Tooru's lips are buzzing when they pull away. Tooru wants to tell Kuroo so many things, but doesn't know what to say, thinks Kuroo knows it all anyway. That Kuroo wants to hear him talk to the corners of the world even still.

Kuroo says, "I have no idea what kind of romance we have."

Tooru laughs, feels it rising up from his chest into his throat, like the seasons rolling into one, finding every moment to bloom.


End file.
